Handcuffs
by SwishAndFlick31
Summary: AU. Aunt Marge visits again during the summer before Harry’s sixth year. They talk about some things that get Harry very, very mad. Then, Vernon calls a facility that takes care of ‘violent’ teens. Little does Harry know, that Hermione’s father owns it.
1. Imaginary Children

**Warnings: **Violence (possibly), language, sexual humor, etc. You know, the usual. Oh, and OOC-ness.

**Spoilers: **Err… … possibly… …? Books 1-5, most likely...

**Summary: **Aunt Marge visits again during the summer before Harry's sixth year. They talk about some things that get Harry very, very mad. Then, Vernon calls a facility that takes care of 'violent' teens. Little does Harry know, that Hermione's father just so happens to own the facility. H/Hr, AU.

* * *

Handcuffs. 

Nasty little muggle devices, they were. The cold metal wrapping around your wrists, making the veins in your wrists go cold. From the size of it, one wouldn't think it could do anything, but once 'it' was wrapped around their wrists, they were done.

That's how Harry Potter felt when he left his 'home' with that nasty metal thing around his wrists, hands behind his back.

* * *

**Flashback**

Earlier that day…

Harry had another nightmare that night. They were all in the Department of Mysteries. Luna was helping Ginny, who had a broken ankle, and they were both limping towards the exit. Harry was watching Sirius duel Bellatrix, who was winning. Suddenly, he was hit with a curse, then flew back through some veil. He was sure that he had just fallen, so Harry looked around. He saw Hermione lay motionless; dead. He saw Ron being chocked from a bunch of brains. Neville had been fighting with Remus Lupin and they weren't in good shape, to say the least. They had blood oozing in spots, others were completely black. The other Order members were no where to be seen.

He lay, thrashing in his bed. He woke up screaming and sweating. He was sweaty all over. His shirt was soaked, as was his forehead and face. It was too humid in the room, Harry thought. The Dursleys were in the cool air, saying that Harry could have any ("Freaks need the heat," Vernon sneered).

He faintly heard knocking coming from his door; he didn't answer, though. He just lay there, sweating and panting. This was the third time that week he had that dream. They just weren't going away, or at least, not anytime soon.

Just than, someone opened the door: Vernon.

"Boy!" the large man bellowed. Harry moaned and sat up, putting his glasses on to see properly.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Your Aunt Marge is visiting (Harry inwardly cringed), go help with the luggage. She's going to be staying for the week, so I suggest—no, I'm ordering you, no _funny business," _he commanded.

Harry nodded and went to change his clothes. He took off his shirt and pulled on a fresh green shirt with khaki shorts. He walked downstairs, avoiding that blasted dog, and went outside, where his Aunt and Uncle were.

"Boy," Marge said, "I thought this boy would be off at some _camp_."

"No… it is summer, after all," Vernon said. "Besides, who better to help than Potter over here?" He glared at the young man, signaling for him to gather her luggage.

"Yes, boy, get my luggage. Be of some assistance."

Harry glared at her and picked up her luggage. He certainly wasn't in the mood to be ordered around, but had no choice.

After he had brought her luggage to the guest room, Harry went back to his room.

During dinner…

Harry sat on his bed, shirtless. He really hated the damn weather, he really wanted something cool. When he was in muggle school, he had heard that if he put his wrists under something cool, like water, he'd feel cooler.

Deciding that it was worth a short, he got up and went towards the bathroom. He went in and looked at his reflection first. His hair wasn't too long, but it wasn't short either, it was at about his neck, messy as ever. His emerald eyes stood out behind the round, cracked, classes. He grinned at himself, he'd let Hermione fix his glasses when he visited the Weasleys, just as she always did.

He turned on the sink, looking for the right temperature. Once he found the water cool enough, he put his wrists under there.

"Wow," he said to himself. It actually worked. He started rubbing his wrists together, making them even colder. He grinned. "Wow, it really works." After a few minutes of cooling off, he changed his clothes and went downstairs.

Marge, Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley were all eating dinner in the dining room. He wasn't paying too much attention to their conversation, but he heard a few lines.

"Yes… boy is messed up, I tell you…"

"That's why… girl… knocked up…"

"Ooh! Knocked up…? Who…?"

"Fifteen… bushy-haired…"

Harry had heard enough. He knew who the bushy-haired girl was, and he knew what 'knocked up' meant. He had most certainly not knocked up Hermione! They weren't even dating! How dare they?

"Wait," he mumbled to himself, "when did they ever see her, anyway?" Quickly putting that thought aside, he walked into the living room and listened to the whole conversation. Apparently they still hadn't noticed Harry's presence.

"Yes, Marge, he has gotten arrested quiet a few times, too. That school, you know which one I'm talking about, he'd gotten some drug addict girl pregnant. Then he murdered her boyfriend. He was arrested for two whole years. Of course, that was two years ago. He visits her summer, at her home, they have two children already. Dudley even told me that they were having their third," Vernon said, lying through his teeth. Marge soaked it up like a sponge. Harry's temper was slowly building up. How could his 'uncle' say those things about him?

"So he was fourteen when he had his first?" Marge questioned. Vernon nodded. "This is what I expected. Two children and a third on the way, and he's only sixteen, too."

"Yes, you will probably see her here, too, one day. You might not hear too much from her, though. Their tongues are down each others throats constantly. Dudley hears them at night, too, lots of moaning. Isn't that right, Dudley?" Vernon asked his chubby child.

"Yup, dad," Dudley said. "Tons of moaning, I hear the headboard of Potter's bed bang against my wall _all the time,_" he said, grinning like a fool. He had noticed that Harry was there and he was going to take full advantage of the situation.

"You should see her, Marge. Plain girl, she is. Bushy brown hair, brown eyes, she's as plain as they get," Vernon said.

Harry's temper was searing. How could they talk about Hermione like that? They didn't even _know_ her and they were going to talk trash about them. He had enough; he walked in, making his presence very clear.

Marge simply continued her conversation. "So, Vernon, what are his children's names? Have they murdered anyone yet?" She sneered at Harry.

Harry glared at her. If she didn't stop soon, he'd do something he was going to regret soon.

"Yes, I believe one is name after Potter, one named after Potter's father, and the one coming is going to be named after Potter's mother. How cliché," Vernon said. "Naming his children after drug addicts, pity really."

Enough was enough. Harry exploded. "WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! DON'T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT MY PARENTS LIKE THAT! THEY WEREN'T DRUG ADDICTS AND YOU KNOW IT! AND ANOTHER THING! DON'T YOU _EVER_ TALK ABOUT HERMIONE LIKE THAT, _EVER AGAIN!!! _AND WHO ARE YOU TO SAY THAT I'M A FATHER?! HUH!? HOW DO YOU KNOW I'M A FATHER?! AND HOW THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW WHO HERMIONE IS?! I SAID IT ONCE, AND I'LL SAY IT AGAIN, DON'T YOU _DARE TALK ABOUT HERMIONE LIKE THAT!!!"_ he snarled, red with rage. The glasses on the table shattered and Marge screamed, thinking that she was going to blow up again, like she did the last time she visited.

She quickly stood up, showing Harry who was boss. "Now you listen here, boy. I will talk about your filthy children and girlfriend if I choose to do so. You are a father, Vernon wouldn't lie about it." More of the glasses started to shatter, leaving Vernon going to the kitchen to call someone and Marge pointing her fat finger in his face.

"Listen, woman," he said his voice full of venom. "You will _not_ talk about Hermione like that. I don't give a fuck who you are, I really don't. Just like Vernon said, I've murdered, and I'm not stopping anytime soon." He smirked when her face went pale. A little lying from his side wasn't going to hurt him.

A few minutes later, Vernon returned, grinning like a fool. "Boy, pack your bags, you're going back to that place."

"What place?" He asked.

"Juvenile Center," he said, grinning. "You're going to spend the summer there."

"What?" he nearly shouted. "What did I do?"

"You, boy, insulted Marge and shattered my wife's china. That's what you did," he said. "I suspect they'll be here within twenty minutes or so. Go upstairs and pack. Go," he commanded.

Harry glared at him, the Order certainly wouldn't be happy about this. He went upstairs and started packing everything that _he_ owned. He packed all of his magical things. None of the clothes (except his Hogwarts uniform) were his; they were Dudley's. He walked over to Hedwig and told her to go to Ron's. A 'hoot' and nip later, she flew away. Harry pocketed his wand and picked up his trunk.

He walked downstairs and waited. He knew that the Dursley's were just doing this to scare him, and that they were going laugh at his sheer stupidity. Twenty minutes later, Vernon true to his word, a car pulled up in front of Number Four Private Dr. Harry was starting to get worried now; he'd only packed his stuff and let Hedwig fly off because he thought this was a joke. He didn't think that Uncle Vernon would actually call a Juvenile Center.

Vernon opened the door and greeted the man. He was tall, about 6'4'', and had blond hair and brown eyes. There was a girl behind him; she looked to be about Harry's age. Harry couldn't see who the girl was, but he thought she must be his daughter. She was about 5'5'' and slim; that's all he saw.

They walked in, then and only then, did Harry realize that the girl was Hermione. His eyes bugged out, thoughts swarming around his head. _"Is she in trouble, too? Is she that guy's daughter? Why is she here? Maybe I should stop staring and start talking." _He shook his head and looked at Hermione. She had certainly changed. Her bushy hair was still bushy, yes, but it now framed her face, which had clear lip gloss painted on them. She was taller now, about 5'5'', and she filled out in all of the right places. Harry felt his pants tighten up slightly, so he decided that he needed to get rid of those thoughts fast, and start talking.

"Yes, this is the boy," Vernon told the man. "Yes, Mister Granger, yes, he has threatened to murder us."

The man nodded, glaring at Harry occasionally. Hermione still hadn't noticed Harry was in the room, but seemed to have a look of thought on her face.

"My Hermione," he murmured. Hermione heard that and looked over at him, noticing for the first time, who was in the living room.

"HARRY!" Hermione shouted, running towards him, tackling him in a hug. They fell to the ground, Hermione's arms around Harry's neck and his around her waist. They didn't move, just stayed like that; on the floor, clutching one another. They stared at each other, letting their eyes talking to each other. They stayed like that for a few more minutes, but then they hear loud coughing. Hermione turned her head around slightly, to see the person; Harry sat up a little, supporting his back on the front of the couch. It was Marge, glaring at the two.

"Sorry," Hermione mumbled, still latched onto Harry. Harry moved his left hand from her waist to her hips, and used his right hand to find his glasses, which had been knocked off when Hermione tackled him.

Marge took in Hermione's appearance. Harry knew that it'd be but a few minutes until she started saying things like 'how are the kids?' 'Kill anyone yet?' 'You still on drugs?' and such.

"What were you doing, boy? Do you not know who this is?" She pointed at Hermione. "This, is Mister David Granger's daughter Hermio--" she stopped mid-sentence, just realizing that the name was _Hermione_, the 'mother' of Harry's 'children.'

"VERNON!" Marge shouted. Vernon walked in and looked at the two teens (who were still very much holding on to each other).

"Yes?" he asked.

"Hermione… she's… she's…" She couldn't finish. She just opened and closed her mouth.

"Yes Marge, what about this Hermio--" He, too, stopped mid-sentence. "Oh," was all he said. He glared at them, and then walked away, towards David Granger.

"What was that about?" Hermione whispered, looking at Marge, whose face looked like a fish out of water.

"I'll explain later," he whispered. "C'mon, let's get up." They got up, feeling a strange sense of emptiness now that they weren't holding each other, but dismissed that quickly.

The man—David Granger—came in and glared at Harry. "You, boy, get your trunk and get," he commanded.

"Dad," Hermione started, "this is Harry--"

"I know perfectly well who this _person_ is." He said Harry's name like it was poison. "Boy, keep your hands where I can see them. Now," he commanded.

Harry looked at Hermione, feeling helpless. He put his hands up and saw David walk up to him, some sort of metal circle things in his hand.

"Turn around." And so he did. He took Harry's hands and put them behind his back, placing those metal circle things around his wrists. They felt cold, very, very cold. He tried to move his hands, but those metal things wouldn't let him.

"Handcuffs," Hermione whispered, walking towards Harry.

"Hermione, come back here. You don't want to be next to a murder, don't know what he could do," he said. Hermione looked at him and walked towards her father.

"Let's go, boy. Get."

"What about my trunk?" Harry asked.

"I'll get that. Go."

"Bye," Harry mumbled to the Dursley's and Marge.

Once they were outside, Hermione instantly went to his side. "Don't worry, Harry. It won't be that bad."

"Hermione! I'm in handcaffs!"

"Handcuffs," Hermione corrected. Harry rolled his eyes.

"So, where am I going?" he asked.

"You, Mister Potter, are going to my home. I'm not letting dad put you in that Juvenile Center. You're staying at my place. End of story."

"Okay," he said, smiling.

"Boy, get in the car," Hermione's father said after seeing the two. Harry nodded and walked up to the car. He couldn't open the door so he asked Hermione to open it, she laughed and opened it, sliding in. He slid in next to her, her father going up front.

"Hermione, why are you with the boy?" he asked.

"Dad, this is Harry Potter. You've heard of him, mum and I talked a lot about him."

Harry looked surprised. "You talk about me?" he asked quietly.

Hermione nodded and smiled. "Yes, you're an amazing person, Harry. Don't deny the fact."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, just as I'm the father of our two children and our third one coming."

At that point, David suddenly stopped the car, turned around at Harry, and gave him a look. "Boy, I've heard a lot of things about you, but what do you mean father of her children? My Hermione has no children. _Right?"_ he pointed the last question at Hermione.

"Honestly, you two! Where did you come up with that rubbish, Harry?" Hermione asked, ignoring her father.

Harry shrugged. "My Uncle and Aunt Marge. They were talking about how I got you pregnant, and now we have two kids and another on the way."

Her father looked at the two, then at Hermione's stomach. "You are kidding, boy, right?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

Hermione started laughing. "How do they even know me?" she asked between laughs.

Harry started laughing, too, and answered, "I don't really know. But they do."

After a few minutes of laughter (and a few more glares towards Harry—courtesy of David) they stopped laughing.

He looked out the window, watching the streets of London. He thought, _maybe this won't be such a bad summer after all, even if my hands are cuffed._


	2. Meeting the Family

**Author's Notes: **Now, JKR once said that Hermione was going to have a sister/brother, but she decided against it. Well, I'm giving that sibling a chance!

Enjoy!

* * *

Hermione sat in the back seat of the car, sitting next to Harry, who didn't seem to like the handcuffs. She took in all of his features (she was mostly staring into his wonderful eyes when she had hugged him). He'd grown about three inches, just under six feet now. His hair had grown a few inches; it was now just about to his neck, messy as ever. He had gotten a few muscles, too, she noticed. He wasn't buff, but he wasn't scrawny anymore, either. He still wore Dudley's clothes, too; she'd have to change that, she thought. Then, she took in his eyes. His wonderful, emerald green eyes; they were always hidden by those wretched glasses, which were cracked, she noticed. His hands were still cuffed, too. 

Hermione scooted closer to Harry, not noticing the small smile on his face, and held his hands, which were still behind his back.

"Here, let me," she said. He looked at her oddly, wonder what she was going to do. "The handcuffs," she said, seemingly reading his mind.

"Oh," was all he said. He turned his back a little, letting her hold his cuffed hands.

"Dad, where are the keys to the cuffs?" she asked her father, who was currently taking the exit to London. He shifted his weight a little, taking out a small key from his back pocket, and gave the silver key to Hermione.

"What do you want to do with it? If you want to do what I think you want to do, don't do it," he said, not once taking his eyes off the road.

"But--"

"No, Hermione, you're not. I don't care, unless that boy is some famous kid, then maybe I'll let him free," he said.

Hermione's eyes brightened up and Harry groaned, knowing what Hermione was about to say.

"But dad, Harry _is_ famous!" she exclaimed, ignoring the groaning and whining from the person next to her.

"_Hermione!"_ whined Harry.

"Shh, Harry!" Hermione said.

"Dad, can I now? Harry is _very_ famous. Ask mum, she'll tell you the truth," she said.

He made a grunting sound that Hermione took as a 'yes.' She took Harry's cuffed hands and put the key in the key hole. She twisted it and they popped open, letting Harry's wrists free. He twisted his hands a bit, letting the cramps out. After he was free of those handcuffs, he hugged Hermione, tight. She was a bit shocked at first, but then wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Thanks, those things were cold," he whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

"No problem, Harry. Just doing a friend a favor," she whispered in his ear.

"OY!" Hermione's father said, startling the two teens. "Hands off my daughter, I don't want you to get her pregnant," he said. After a moment, he added, "again."

Harry and Hermione laughed at that.

* * *

"Here we are, the Juvenile Center. Have fun, boy," David said, handing Harry his trunk. 

"B-but-- y-y-you were serious?" Harry stuttered.

"No, he's not serious, Harry," Hermione said, joining Harry's side.

"Yes I am, Hermione. I don't care if this boy is famous or not, he is staying here," he said.

"No, dad. Harry is going to stay with us. He did nothing wrong, so it's only fair that he stays with us." The tone of her voice could give McGonagall's for a run.

"Hermione--"

"Dad, talk to mum. She'll tell you everything. I swear, there isn't a single bad bone in Harry," she said, smiling at Harry (who was currently tomato red).

"I am bad, Hermione. Just not bad enough to kill someone," Harry said. Saying a bloke wasn't bad was saying something like he liked skipping around and putting flowers in his hair; it made him want to gag.

"Fine, I'll talk to your mother. But, be warned Hermione Granger, one bad thing I hear about this … Harry Potter bloke, and he's off here for the rest of the summer." His voice was stern, making Harry wince slightly.

He took out his mobile and dialed his wife's number. A few minutes later, Harry and Hermione could hear him talking to her mother.

"Hi, honey … yes … Harry Potter bloke … no … really, you don't say … yes … but … (he sighed) yes, dear … but remember, one thing and he's out … okay … love you, too … bye …" He turned around, taking in the grin Hermione was sporting, and said, "Okay, your mother said that he isn't a bad guy. But I have heard some _interesting _things about you, Potter. I expect you to tell me _everything_ about you at our home."

Harry let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and Hermione kept her grin, now holding his hand. He looked at her, wondering why she had done that. Hermione shrugged, grin still plastered, and started walking towards her father, dragging Harry with her.

"Okay, c'mon, I bet mum's already put dinner up."

Harry, who was still bright red, just nodded and got in the car. Hermione slid in next to him, their hands still very much intertwined, and shut the door.

The car ride home was pleasant (at least Mister Granger wasn't glaring at Harry). Hermione still kept their hands intertwined, making Harry's stomach do flips, and occasionally talking about what they were to do over the summer. David, though he wasn't glaring, kept an ear open to listen if the boy had anything bad to say. David still wasn't too sure on Harry, since his uncle said that he threatened to murder, and the things he did in school, the special skills he had, he wasn't too sure if he'd like him to be with his fifteen year old girl. He was a father, after all. He wasn't just going to let any bloke stay in the house with a teenage girl; that just wouldn't be right.

Finally, near twenty minutes later, David announced that they were home. Harry, Hermione, and David all got out of the car. Harry went to get his trunk and then joined Hermione's side.

The house wasn't too small, but it wasn't huge, either. It had a decent sized front lawn, with a small pond in towards the middle. The backyard seems pretty nice, too.

They walked inside and into the living room. David took Harry's trunk and walked upstairs, while Hermione showed Harry around the house. Missus Granger walked in and gasped.

"Well, Harry Potter in the flesh," Hermione's mother said, walking up to Harry and inspecting him. She was about 5'6'' and had brown hair and brown eyes, much like Hermione. "Finally I get to see the boy that my Hermione has been talking about all these years."

"Um … hello, Missus Granger," Harry said, feeling awkward.

"Please, Harry, call me Ann," she said, smiling at the teenage boy.

She looked at him, as if looking for faults; Harry didn't feel comfortable. After a few minutes of "inspecting," as Harry liked to think of it, she finally spoke.

"Well, yes, your clothes are much too large. We'll take you shopping tomorrow. You eyes are wonderful, if I do say so myself. A bit thin, but those muscles work for you, I think it's the clothes. Yes, the clothes. Your hair is unbelievably messy; we'll get you a haircut tomorrow, too. Other then that, you're fine!" She said, embracing Harry. He stiffened at the contact instantly, never having been touched like that by anyone other than Hermione. Missus Granger noticed that, too, and pulled back.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable," she said.

"No, it's okay. I … just … no one ever hugs me like that other than Hermione. So, I guess, it's just … new," he said.

"Okay," Hermione said, wanting to ease up the tension, "let's eat dinner."

Missus Granger nodded and led them to the dining room, where dinner was already served. Harry and Hermione took a seat next to each other, while Ann and David went to the heads of the table. Harry took some chicken on his plate, as well as some vegetables and mashed potatoes. Hermione took some of the chicken, too, and took some stuffing and vegetables.

"So, boy--" Hermione's father started, but was cut off by both Hermione and her mother.

"It's Harry," they said.

David rolled his eyes and started again. "Okay, _Harry,_ tell us about yourself. What are your interests? Play any sports? How are your grades? Have you ever gotten detention? Have--"

"Dad!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Hermione, I only want to learn more about this Harry Potter boy. You two know so much about him, and I feel out of the loop. So, Harry, care to talk?" He asked, not affected by his daughter and wife's mutterings.

"Well," Harry started, "I play qudditch."

"He was the youngest player in over a century," Hermione added.

"What is this qudditch?" David asked.

"It's sort of like lacrosse in the air," Harry explained. Hermione's father actually looked interested, so Harry went into full detail about the sport.

After fifteen minutes, Hermione's father spoke again. "So … Ann told me that you stole something when you were eleven. Is that true?"

"Um … well … it was for a good cause," Harry stammered. David just gave a faint 'hmmm.'

"Anything else?" he asked, looking at the three of them. "Anything special this boy can do?"

"Yes," Ann said, speaking for the first time, "he can speak to snakes. Hermione told me."

"You told her that?" Harry asked Hermione. She just shrugged.

"Talk to snakes, eh?" he asked.

"Yeah, I and only one other person in Great Britain can talk to snakes," Harry said, grimacing at the thought of only him and Lord Voldermort being parstletounges.

"One other person? Wow, you must feel lucky then," he said.

"Not really, most people think it's a curse. They consider it very dark if you're able to speak to snakes," Harry explained.

"Are you evil?" David asked, eyeing the boy suspiciously.

"No!" he said, clearly offended by being called evil.

"Dad, Harry would never be evil. He has--" Hermione started, but was cut off by a loud 'thump' from upstairs.

"Oh, I think that was Catty," Ann said. "She hasn't been feeling well today, I'll tuck her in again." She got up and went upstairs.

"Who's Catty?" Harry asked.

"My sister," Hermione said simply.

"Why didn't you tell me you had a sister?" Harry asked, hurt by the fact that she hadn't told him.

"She's only four, and I didn't think that you'd care much," she said, shrugging it off.

"But I do care, Hermione. Why would you think I wouldn't?" he asked.

Again, she shrugged. "I don't know. Anyway, what are we going to do tomorrow?"

"I think I should make sure that this boy has no weapons," David said at once.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Dad, he has nothing that would cause us any harm, really."

David just mumbled something in reply. Hermione looked at Harry once again.

"So, what do you want to do tomorrow?" She asked.

"Um, I think that maybe we could just walk around, maybe."

"Okay," she said, going back to her food.

* * *

Once they were finished eating. Harry tried to clean up the dishes, but Ann (who had come down just before they finished eating) wouldn't have any of it. 

"You're a guest, Harry. You shouldn't be doing this work. Hermione will show you your room," Ann said, getting the dishes.

"Nonsense, Ann. This boy offered, so he should do it. It's only manners," David said, glancing at the raven haired boy.

"No, David. He will not be doing these dishes. Not as long as he is here, he's a guest." Her tone was final, so David said no more, just went into the living room and turned on the television.

Harry walked to Hermione, who was sitting on the couch with Crookshanks. He smiled and walked behind the couch, just hovering above her. He leaned down a bit, his head just barely touching Hermione's shoulder, and smiled.

"So," Harry whispered. Hermione jumped a bit, bit didn't move otherwise. "You going to show me my room?"

"You know, Harry, if I didn't know any better, I would've thought that you were just flirting with me." She turned around, smiling.

Harry grinned. "Maybe I was."

"Smooth, Potter." She winked and Harry laughed. "C'mon, let me show you your room."

She led him upstairs and went for a few doors. "Okay, my parents' room is the one to the left. My sister's room is the one next to theirs. My room is on the right; yours next to mine."

Harry nodded and opened the first door. It had periwinkle walls, with pictures (most of which were her and Harry) hanging on the wall. Her bed, which wasn't that large, was on the top left hand corner, right next to the window. On the window was a potted plant, and next to it was a hat that she had made for the elves. There was a large bookshelf filled with books next to a computer desk with a laptop on it. He smiled, but it was a little to girly for his tastes.

"Harry, wrong door," Hermione said smirking.

"Oh. Thought so," and he chuckled slightly, feeling stupid.

She took his hand, lacing their fingers together. They felt a shock go through each other, but they disregarded that; this was not the time to bring up their feelings for each other. She led him through the door next to hers.

Inside were pale yellow walls. The bed was large, with pastel green and yellow pillows and blanket. There was a dresser with Harry's trunk in front of it, and next to the dresser was a desk with a notebook and pen on it. It was pretty simple, but Harry liked it.

"Nice." He smiled at her, and not thinking for a moment, he kissed her cheek.

Her eyes enlarged for a moment, but then he pulled back, tomato red.

"Um, thanks, for keeping me here," he stated awkwardly.

She, turning red, said, "No problem, Harry. You're my friend." A few moments later, Hermione said, "C'mon, you get settled in and I'll see you tomorrow." She reluctantly let go of his hand, immediately feeling an absence, and walked out, smiling all the while.

_Well, she didn't pull back, so I guess kissing her cheek was okay. I think I'll do it again,_ Harry thought, smiling.

* * *

The next day, Harry woke up to a giggling sound. Harry groaned and took his glasses from the bedside table. He glanced at the clock, seven thirty, and thought that it was too early. 

"Silly boy," someone said. Harry looked to see who it was; she had short curly brown hair with brown eyes. She was young, around four years old or so, and she had glasses on. Harry figured this was Hermione's sister.

Harry got up, barely registering that he was only in his black boxers, and walked over to the little girl.

"Hi," he said.

"You silly boy," she said, giggling and running into the hallway.

Harry laughed and walked out of the room. He figured that since it was Saturday, no one would be up. He saw the little girl—Catty from what he remembered—and hunkered down to her height.

"Will you carry me?" the little child asked, opening her arms out to Harry.

"Err… sure." He picked her up and balanced her on his hip. "So, what's your name?"

"Catherine Elizabeth Granger," she stated proudly. "I'm four," she said, holding up four fingers. "My buffday is in December!"

"Cool. I'm Harry James Potter." Catherine giggled again. "I'm fifteen years old, and my birthday is in two weeks."

She giggled again. "Silly boy, I know who you are." She saw the face Harry had on and giggled again. "My sissy loves you. Silly sissy likes silly boy," she said.

Harry stood there, shocked. He didn't think Hermione would ever like him, but there Catherine was, saying that she liked him. He liked Hermione a lot, but decided that it'd be too risky asking her out since Voldermort was loose and it posed a greater risk for her. He didn't want to lose her, even if it meant that he had to put his feelings aside. He didn't know when he started liking her, but he was pretty sure that it was around fourth year. She was with him, even when everyone thought that he had put his name in the Goblet of Fire; she was the only one that believed that Harry hadn't, not even Ron believed him.

And at the Department of Mysteries… that was horrible. He could've lost the two most important people to him. Ginny broke her ankle, Luna was mostly unharmed, and Neville wasn't too injured, but he didn't know them that much. But he were to lose them, yes he'd grieve, knowing that it was his entire fault. But if he had lost Ron, Hermione, or Remus (Sirius was out of the question), he'd grieve his whole life. Hermione had nearly lost her life that fateful night. If she _had_ died, he wouldn't know what to do; he'd be lost without her. If he had lost Ron, he would've lost his best mate, and he didn't like the idea of that at all. Remus, he was like his uncle, if he had lost him, the last of the Marauders would've been gone. Then there was Sirius… Poor Sirius died behind the veil. He knew that it was his entire fault. If he had listened to Hermione, Sirius would've been able to live. But, no, he was selfish and thought that Sirius was in trouble, so they went, and Sirius died that night. He'd lost the most important person in his life; his godfather.

Harry felt tears form in his eyes, but he pushed them back. He didn't want Catherine to this that he was a crybaby on top of a 'silly boy.'

"Silly boy?" Catty asked. "We go to sissy's room?"

"Um, okay," he said, walking towards Hermione's room. He knocked and heard a muffled 'come in' from the other side. He opened the door slowly and walked inside, Catty still in his arms.

"Good morning. I see you've found Catty," Hermione said, walking up to them.

"Yeah, she woke me up," Harry said, smiling at the young child.

"Silly boy let me down," Catty said. Harry let her down and she ran downstairs. Harry and Hermione laughed. After a few minutes, Harry finally registered that he was in nothing but his black boxers. Apparently, Hermione had noticed, too, because she was turning red quickly. Harry looked at her; she was wearing blue sweatpants with a simple black shirt. Her hair was a mess, but he liked that about her hair.

"So, where are your parents?" Harry asked after a minute. Harry still couldn't get the fact that Hermione could like him out of his mind.

"Um, dad is probably still sleeping. I think mum's downstairs cooking breakfast, she's off today," Hermione said. A few moments later, she said, "Sorry if you wanted to sleep in late, Catty is an early riser."

"I can tell," he muttered.

"How about you take a shower and I'll see you downstairs?" She asked.

"Alright, where's your bathroom?" he asked, hand on the door knob.

"Right next to your room," she said. Harry nodded and opened the door, walking out.

David Granger chose that moment to walk out of his room. He saw Harry exit Hermione's room wearing nothing but boxers. David went into protective father mode and cornered Harry.

"What were you doing in my daughter's room?" He asked, glaring at the boy.

"Um… we… talking," Harry stammered.

Harry wasn't a small boy; he had defined abs from playing qudditch, he was pretty strong (fighting Voldermort and his goons had its perks), and he wasn't that short, either. He was just nearly six feet tall, nearly as tall as the other boys in his year. He just didn't like the idea of being cornered by a man that was nearly twenty-three years older than him, especially when that man was a girl's father.

"Right. I'll be keeping an eye on you, boy." He glared at him, making Harry wince, and walked away into the bathroom.

Harry let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding, and walked into his room. He took out the same clothes from yesterday (he didn't take any other clothes, he didn't want to take Dudley's hand-me-downs) and sat on his bed, waiting for Mister Granger to get out of the bathroom.

Hermione sat contently on her bed. She couldn't get the picture of Harry out of her mind; the way he looked in those boxers. He certainly wasn't scrawny anymore, and the fact that he had grown nearly a foot had helped, too.

She had kept her feelings bottled up for nearly a year now, for fear of rejection. She knew that Harry wouldn't like her; she was the know-it-all bookworm, the ugly nagging, bossy, S.P.E.W. founder. She knew that Harry would go for someone beautiful. He'd probably go for someone that was athletic, pretty, and popular. She was neither of those three, or at least she thought. If she would've asked him out, she knew he'd say no, so she just took whatever she got, which was friendship.

She heard someone come in and sit next to her.

"Hey," Harry said.

"Hi," Hermione said.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked.

"N-nothing," she stuttered. She wasn't about to tell him about her feelings.

"Okay," he said slowly, not believing her.

"How are you?" she asked, knowing the answer already.

He sighed. He knew that she'd ask sooner or later. He felt the tears form again, but he didn't stop this time, he knew that Hermione wouldn't judge him. "I should've listened to you," he said, barely above a whisper.

"No, Harry. You just--"

"No, listen, Hermione. I should've listened to you, and then Sirius wouldn't have had to die. It was all my fault; it's always my fault," he said, a tear sliding his cheek. Hermione brought her hand up to his cheek and wiped it off.

"Harry, you know that it wasn't your fault. It was Bellatrix's fault; you and I both know it." She felt tears fill up her eyes, too.

"It _is_ my fault, Hermione! It's always my fault! First Cedric, now Sirius! Who's next?!" He said, tears cascading down his cheeks.

She embraced him, knowing that he needed it right now. "Harry, listen to me, none of this is your fault. Okay? None of this is your fault. Cedric died because Wormtail killed him, not you. Sirius died fighting for you," she said, letting the tears fall.

"But if I hadn't told Cedric to get the cup with me, he would've have died. If I listened to you, Sirius would still be here," he said, burying his face in her neck, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Harry--"

"WHAT'S THIS?!" David Granger said. He didn't like this sight at all; his baby's arms were wrapped around the boy (he didn't feel that he was privileged enough to call him by his name yet) and tracing little circles on his back, her face buried in the nape of his neck. His face was buried in the nape of her neck (kissing and sucking it, David thought) and his arms were wrapped around her waist, their bodies nearly molded together.

Harry and Hermione jumped apart. Harry quickly wiped his tears, as did Hermione, and sat (a bit too close for David's liking) next to Hermione.

"I said, what's this?" David asked again, not noticing Harry and Hermione had just wiped off their tears; he was still dwelling on the fact that the boy was nearly on top of his baby girl.

"Um… w-well, you see…" Harry stammered again.

"Dad, stop, Harry and I did nothing disgraceful. Harry and I were just hugging," she said coolly.

He looked at them suspiciously. "Then why is your neck wet? Was he trying to give you a--"

"Dad!" Hermione said, scandalized.

"DAVID! HARRY! HERMIONE! BREAKFAST IS READY!" Ann shouted from downstairs. Harry thought he heard a distant giggling sound, but shrugged it off.

He glared at Harry, again, and said, "Hurry up, don't want Ann to start yelling at us." With that, he left.

"He's never going to like me, is he?" Harry asked after he left.

"I'm not too sure. I've never had a boy over," Hermione said shyly.

"Oh," Harry said.

Awkward silence…

"Well," Hermione said after some time, "why don't we go downstairs. Then we can see what we're going to do today."

"Okay," Harry said, going into his room to get his clothes.

_First boy over, eh? No wonder why Mister Granger is such a nightmare. I just hope I don't end up in those handcuffs again,_ Harry thought shuddering.

**Author's Notes: **Reviews are much appreciated!

Well, till the next!


	3. Time for a New Look

**Disclaimer: **Now, if I owned this, would I be here, sitting on my (yes MY, I have it labeled it so my sister isn't allowed to sit on it) recliner, watching the letters pop up on my laptop screen, avoiding my homework by any means necessary, forgetting about my other story "Forever" and "Playing the Past," and typing a fan fiction? No, I didn't think so.

* * *

Once Breakfast was over, Ann and Hermione _insisted _that Harry get a new wardrobe. Harry wasn't very willing, he'd gotten used to his cousin's hand-me-downs, but they said that he needed clothes his own size. In a way, they were right, but Harry wasn't going to admit that anytime soon. Catty, who never actually called him by his real name (she was very fond of calling him 'silly boy'), kept on singing that she was taking the 'silly boy' shopping for pretty dresses. David actually started laughing at that and Harry blushed madly, embarrassed. But David still hadn't lightened up on Harry one bit. When he and Hermione would go upstairs, David would follow, saying that he was just "making sure there was no dust on the stairs." It didn't take a rocket scientist (or in Harry and Hermione's case, a Dumbledore) to figure out what David thought Hermione and Harry would be up to. 

Currently, Harry, Ann, and Hermione were in the car, driving to the London Mall. Harry had never been there before, but the kids on his street would always say that it was the "coolest" place to go. But then again, those kids were snobby and rich. Hermione, whose hands were _again_ intertwined (if she kept on doing that, Harry was scared that he wouldn't be able to keep his feelings hidden for much longer) with his, while chatting away happily about the London Mall. Of course, Hermione, being the bookworm that she was, could go to a convention on dust mites and still be interesting, perhaps even taking souvenirs once it was over. But Harry didn't mind at all. Nope, not one bit. Actually, as long as her soft fingers were laced through his, he could live through just about anything.

"So, Harry, do you know what size you actually are?" Ann asked, looking for a place to park the car. Sometime during the time Harry was watching Hermione babble on about the stores in the mall, they'd gotten to the mall.

"Erm… no not really, I mean, the only real clothing that is my size, is my uniform for school," Harry said, stepping out of the car. Unfortunately, that meant that Harry had to release Hermione's hand, something which he wasn't very willing to do.

"Oh don't worry, Harry, we'll find something. I'm sure that there is one store out there for you," Hermione said, also getting out of the car. Once she had gotten out, though, she laced her fingers through his again. Harry grinned inside, hoping that his hand wouldn't ever be lonely again.

"Okay, what store first?" Ann asked, looking at the stores.

"I'm not too sure. How about Macy's. I've been there a few times, it's really nice," Hermione said.

"Harry, is that okay?" Ann asked. She knew that the boy would most likely say yes, but she still wanted to make sure.

"Yeah… I've never been there before, so I might as well try." He walked ahead, looking for the store. Suddenly, Hermione's hand squeezed his, singling something bad. At first, Harry went directly for his wand (which was in his back jean pocket), but stopped when he looked in the direction of where she was.

There was a blond, behind and next to her were other various blonds, and brunettes, all dressed in the finest (and the most revealing) clothing. Next to the girls, were boys that were nearly latched on to the girls, all sporting fine sunglasses, trim haircuts, and tight shirts. Hermione groaned, knowing exactly who they were.

Harry noticed two of the people, though. One of them was a boy that went to his primary school, the other his girlfriend. They were both sporting jeans (though hers was _much_ tighter than his), and had crisp, clean button up shirts. Harry groaned as well; he certainly didn't expect _them_ to be here.

The teens noticed the two others and walked (more like strutting, Harry thought) over to Harry and Hermione.

"'Mio, what's up girlie?" One of the girls said. She was about five six and had blond hair with highlights, and was sporting several earrings in her ears. She wore a shirt that said 'I'm bringin' sexy back' and tight blue/black jeans.

"Is this your boo?" another asked. She had black hair and silver-blue eyes. She was also wearing a tank-top that was just a bit too tight, and a white mini skirt.

"Where'd you get em from? The streets?" the blond asked, making the others laugh.

"No, Sara," Hermione said, looking at the girl with black hair, "he isn't my 'boo.' He's just my friend." She looked at the blond next. "And no, Rachel, I didn't get him from the streets. He's quiet rich," she said smugly.

A blond guy—Brett--with red tips snorted. "Please, this guy, rich? You have got to be kidding me. Look at him; he's swimming in those rags!"

"Yeah Mio, you don't have to lie to us. We're all you friends," Sara said, touching Hermione's arm slightly.

"Don't call me Mio," Hermione said, squeezing Harry's hand a bit and shrugging of Sara's arm.

"Miss Granger, do you mind if we shop with Hermione and her boyfriend? We'll meet you at the café in a few hours," Sara said, smiling innocently.

Ann looked at the children carefully, and then at Harry and Hermione. The teenagers seemed to have an air of "class," as David liked to call them. But then again, he also liked to call them the "snobby teens of today." She noted that her husband did hold a fair point. The teens were wearing clothing that revealed far too much skin; they (the girls) also wore a bit too much make up to be called "natural," and the stench they were giving off smelled of too much perfume. The boys, well, they were literally latched on to the girls. Some had highlights in their hair, while other's where long and "surfer-like," as David would love to say. (She noted that David loved to label people. Maybe it had something to do with the teenagers that went to the Juvenile Center? She wasn't quiet sure; she'd have to ask him at a later time.) Harry and Hermione, though, were a different story. She was wearing a soft periwinkle (her favorite color) tank top and khaki shorts, while Harry was wearing the same clothes from yesterday. She wondered if he had any other clothes. If the boy was so rich and famous, why didn't he have people asking for autographs, or at least why he didn't have any decent clothes.

_He's a wizard,_ she reminded herself. She looked at Harry and Hermione for a moment, deciphering their emotions on their face. Harry seemed a bit calm, though a tad nervous, too. Hermione on the other hand, seemed a bit perplexed, if not worried.

She decided that it probably wouldn't hurt. Hermione was always a bit isolated from everyone, and Harry seemed a bit isolated himself. She didn't think that it'd hurt _too much_ if she let her daughter and 'friend' (she still wasn't sure if they were dating or not. They always gave each other 'looks' that were just a bit _too_ platonic) went out with them. Just as long as he didn't come out with a pierced nose, nor she, Missus Granger would be quiet fine.

"Okay," she said, smiling a bit at the teens, "you can go with them. Just call me on my mobile once you're finished, I'll be looking around the stores." She noticed that Harry looked a bit shy around them, and Hermione looked a bit mad. She motioned for Harry and Hermione to come near her so she could talk to them privately.

"Harry, Hermione," she started, looking at the two teens, "will you be alright?"

"Sure, mum, nothing Harry and I can't handle," Hermione said smiling, squeezing Harry's hand a bit. Ann looked at Harry.

"Uh… I don't really have a problem, I guess," he said. Truth was, he didn't want to go, he'd rather go shopping for new clothes with Hermione and her mother, not the teens that were but a few feet away.

"Okay, then." She looked into her purse and brought out a credit card. "Hermione dear, be sure to buy Harry some nice clothes, will you?"

Harry, having seen Missus Granger give the credit card to Hermione, took the card from Hermione's hands and gave it back to Missus Granger. "No, please don't pay for me. I have more than enough to pay for us. Really, I do," he said.

"Yes, Harry, I'm sure you do," she said, trace of humor in her voice. "But I highly doubt that you've converted you money. Am I right?" She asked, smirking slightly. When she saw Harry look down, she smiled triumphantly. She knew teens all too well.

"Now, Harry you are going to use this credit card. No butts!" She said, seeing the look on his face. "I want you to have a decent wardrobe, not this rubbish your relatives are making you wear. If you behave, I might just let you pay me back, but don't count on it." She glanced over their shoulders and saw the impatient look on the teens' faces. "Okay, well, I'll see you later." She smiled and kissed her daughter's cheek. Then she did the same to Harry (who was more than surprised at the gesture) and led them back to the teens.

"Bout time," Brett muttered. He noticed the credit card in Hermione's hand and instantly cheered up. "So, are we ready to shop?"

"Yeah," Rachel said, eying Harry like a piece of meat. "This guy, Harry, needs a total makeover!" She and the other girls squealed, as the young men grinned.

Harry's eyes widened slightly. He wasn't sure if he should be happy, or scared. One side of him felt like he should've been happy, people with—ahem—_style_ were helping him, after all. But then again, Hermione and Missus Granger had a sensible sense of style, too, and he could certainly live with whatever they picked. (Harry never picked out his own clothes; he felt that he couldn't get anything to match, as Hermione would say.) He also felt a bit scared because he might not have liked all of the clothes that they picked. Sure, they'd be stylish, but they might not have been _him._ His style was a bit of everything. That made him just a bit frightened. Sure, he could fight (sometimes, when he had to fight death eaters and lost his wand, he'd have to resolve to muggle fighting), but people bigger, muggle people scared him for some reason. It could've been from when he was younger, his uncle would always tower over him, but he wasn't too sure.

"You still want to do this?" Hermione whispered in his ear. The girls giggled, thinking that Hermione had just suggested something.

Harry nodded and looked at her, squeezing her hand in reassurance. "Yeah," and he kissed her cheek lightly. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."

Hermione blushed slightly at Harry's gesture of assurance, but didn't fully show it. "Okay, I'll be by your side just in case," she said smiling.

"Oy, you two love birds--" Brett started, but was cut off by Rick, a young man with "surfer" blond hair and sparkling blue eyes.

"Let them have their moment, Brett." Rick grinned at the two as he watched them blush madly.

Rick had known Harry since he was a young child. Though he didn't know him personally, he knew that the kid was a down right geek. He'd worn those glasses ever since he could remember, and he wore those ugly, stained, baggy clothes. He wasn't sure why exactly he wore those, he knew that the kid was scrawny, but he wasn't too thin to fit those clothes. Harry still had his hair long, Rick noted, he'd have to change that. His mind started swarming with ideas, some of which would change Harry almost drastically. Missus Granger would never see Harry Potter the same ever again.

His girlfriend, Laura, was a beautiful young woman. With blond hair and enchanting chocolate eyes, who wouldn't love her? Harry Potter, for starters, Laura thought. When she was younger, she used to have a huge school-yard crush on him. Though she was nearly two years younger, and about nine when Harry 'left,' she still thought he was cute, in a boy-ish way, of course. But then Dudley Dursley, that pig of a child, always threatened everyone not to go near the boy, for he was a "freak." Laura, having the "just-go-with-it" personality, stayed away from the boy, but kept her secret crush on Harry. Now, after nearly six years, she would have to admit, he was pretty hot now. His hair was long, yes, but it had always been that way. He wasn't scrawny anymore, she noted, he'd certainly filled out a bit, though the clothes didn't show it off at all. She'd have to change that, and the whole Hermione Granger problem. She was going to get her crush back, even if she had a boyfriend already. She grinned, a plan forming in her mind; Hermione Granger certainly wouldn't look at Harry Potter the same after Laura Johnson was done with him.

"C'mon, Harry," Laura said, grabbing Harry's arm and dragging him off to a store.

Hermione scowled. She didn't like the idea of another girl holding him, unless it was her. _But he's not your boyfriend, _Hermione's voice accused. _That doesn't matter, she just thinks he's a fresh piece of meat,_ her other side defended. She went off next to Harry, holding his hand again. He smiled slightly, glad that he wasn't in this on his own, and faced Laura and the group.

"Alright, Operation Makeover is a go. First, we'll get Harry a new wardrobe, something totally hot. And then, we'll go on to his hair. And finally, accessories!" Laura said, squealing a bit. The other girls followed suit, looking at Harry as if they were his prey.

Harry felt like a small broken-winged bird being watched by a hungry cat: afraid and venerable. Though, he knew that Hermione would be there to help him out… or so he hoped.

"Okay, Harry let's go." Brett led Harry and Hermione to the store. Brett instantly led them over to the men's section, looking at clothes.

Harry looked at it, wondering if he'd even like these clothes. There were many types of clothes here: some short sleeved shirts with collars, polo shirts, elegant button up shirts, business-like shirts, casual shirts, shirts that had pictures and writing on it, some with beautiful things that Harry couldn't quiet describe, but thought they were extraordinary. There were many type of pants, too. He saw the casual jean, but then he saw the various types of jeans; there were ones that were slightly faded, with holes around the knees; jeans that were nearly black, but with logos on them; baggy, slightly ripped jeans; jean shorts, again ripped, holy, faded, more types than Harry could even name. There were tight, spandex pants; khaki pants and shorts; and then the dress and school pants. There were tuxedos and blazers, coats and jackets, leather and fleece, polyester and cotton. There were so many things there that Harry was sure he'd be lost if he didn't have Hermione.

Hermione grinned; Harry was so clueless. Apparently, the others thought so, too, because they scattered, finding clothes for Harry. But what worried Hermione the most was that they were all sporting smirks, grins, and evil smiles, which was never good when it came to Harry Potter.

Harry let go of her hand and walked over to the clothes rack, searching for something. He saw a simple black button down shirt with thin white strips running down. He liked it, so he searched for his size.

"Err… Hermione, how do I know what size I am?" Harry asked, holding up four sizes of shirts.

Hermione chuckled and walked up to Harry. "Well, Harry, normally people try the clothes on to see what size they are. Though I think you're a size large, but you never know." She took the shirts that weren't large or medium and put them back onto the rack. She gave him the shirts and led him to the fitting rooms.

"Now, try those on and show me, I'll be waiting out here," Hermione said, shoving Harry in. Harry laughed and went in.

A minute later Harry emerged, wearing the size medium. The shirt was a bit short for him, so Hermione decided that he should wear the large. He nodded and went back in, putting on Dudley's shirt.

Hermione noticed that Brett and his clan were nowhere to be found. She wondered where they had gone. Perhaps they left? No, she couldn't raise her hopes up.

As if on cue, Brett, Laura, and the clan came back, all holding massive amounts of clothing.

"Alright, I got his jeans; Rick's got the khakis and dress pants. Laura has the nice fancy shirts, while Rachel and Sara have the casual everyday shirts." Brett looked around. "Hey, where's Harry?" He asked, still looking around.

"He's making sure he knows what his size is," Hermione said, looking at the shirts.

"Odd one, she is," Rick muttered to Laura. "Dunno how Potter dates her."

Laura smiled sweetly. "Well, I can see how she dates him. He's hot," she said, winking at her boyfriend. Rick narrowed his eyes a bit, jealous. Laura smiled slightly and pecked him, showing that she meant no harm.

Harry came out, hair messier, glasses askew, and clothes wrinkled in his hands.

"Dude, what happened? You get attacked by your clothes?" Rick asked laughing.

"No… the shirt just didn't agree with me." He looked for Hermione. Finding her, he smiled innocently and handed her the shirts, silently asking her to fold them. She rolled her eyes and took them away from him. She put them on the counter and fixed his glasses, and then started folding the shirts, a secret smile on her face.

Harry noticed that they weren't alone. He walked over to Brett, Rick, Laura, Rachel, and Sara, looking at the various articles of clothing.

Brett shoved a few pants in Harry's hands, and Laura put some shirts on top of the pants, and shoved him into the fitting rooms again.

"Why am I going in again?" Harry asked confused. He'd already been in there once. He knew his size, why did he have to go back?

"Cause you gotta make sure that those look good on you," Rachel said simply. She took Rick's and Brett's arm and shoved them into the fitting room with Harry. "And you two make sure that he isn't gonna look anything but hot. He needs to look sexy if he wants to hang with us."

Rick and Brett started muttering. They might've liked messing with Harry's style, but they were blokes; they didn't _do_ fitting. They just picked a shirt and pant and put them on, not caring if they were a month old. But then again, they did have a status to uphold, and that Potter fellow wasn't going to ruin it, no matter what. There'd have to be some sacrifices that they'd have to make, but at least they'd have fun playing with the kid.

"Aiight kid, you go in there, see what looks good on you, come out, and we see. Or you could just change out here, I mean, the men's fitting rooms are always deserted. I think I see the dust already," Brett said, seeing a cobweb forming on the corner of the ceiling.

"Uh, okay," Harry said, dropping nearly half of the clothes and going through them. He picked up a few shirts and pants and walked into the room to change. A few minutes later, Harry emerged. He wore a black short-sleeved shirt with an eagle and snake on it and black, slightly ripped jeans.

Brett and Rick grinned. "Awesome, that one's a keeper. Now get your ass in there with some new clothes."

Harry looked at his reflection. He had to admit, he didn't look _too_ bad, but it worked. He picked up a few more shirts and pants and went back in.

One by one, Harry went through the clothes, most of which Brett and Rick liked. Almost half of his shirts were black with some sort of animal on them. Most of the jeans that he bought were ripped, baggy, and slightly faded, though a few he bought were black as well. He bought a few dress pants since he out grew his old ones. He's gotten a few vintage shirts, only because Hermione thought he looked good in them, though. He'd gotten basketball shorts since it was so hot outside that he didn't feel like wearing pants all of the time. He'd gotten a few athletic shorts and shirts as well—Laura _insisted._ He'd gotten a black leather jacket, too, but he wasn't sure if he was going to use it so much, since it was currently very hot out. Maybe when the weather was colder, he'd use it. They'd also gotten him new shoes: black and blue tennis shoes, a pair of dress shoes, and new running shoes, though Harry doubted he was going to use them much—the girls insisted, and Harry was quiet scared when he turned it down. But then he had to face the wrath of three teenage girls. He'd never (hopefully) do that again.

When they got to the underwear section, though, Harry started blushing like mad. The girls started giggling as they brought various briefs to Harry. Harry insisted that he was a boxer person, so they shouldn't bring them up to him. The girls, if possible, giggled even more and started bringing up boxers to Harry, making sure they looked _"_right." The boys just sat back and sniggered at Harry's embarrassed face. All Hermione could do was watch; those girls wear nearly tearing Harry apart. In the end, the girls decided on several silky boxers (all in various colors) and one with a cartoon character on them, throwing the boys in a laughing fit. Even Hermione had to hide her laughter by covering her hand.

Harry felt helpless. Really, he did. He didn't want to hurt the girls' feelings, but he didn't really want all of the clothes. He knew, after purchasing the expensive clothing that he could easily pay Miss Granger by converting some of his money into muggle currency, but he still wasn't sure if he'd even wear all of it. But yet again, the girls were shoving bags of Harry's clothing into his and Hermione's arms, saying that they'd meet up with Missus Granger later to drop off the bags. Before they left, Rick took out the same black shirt with the lion and eagle on it with the black ripped jeans and told Harry to change into it before he left.

They went into a hair salon and Sara and Hermione walked with Harry to the hair dresser. "Hello," Sara said sweetly. "I want a haircut for my friend, Harry."

Hermione scowled; she wasn't Harry's friend, she barely even knew him. The hairdresser noticed this and looked at Hermione's expressions. Her left hand was intertwined with the boy's--Harry—right, her right hand softly holding his arm.

"Okay," the hairdresser, Cassandra said, smiling. She winked in Rick's direction, who was currently sitting with Brett, grinning evilly at Harry. "Harry, if you'll follow."

Harry let go of Hermione's hand and started to walk away, not seeing the hungry look on Laura's face, who was currently sitting next to Rick. Hermione saw the look and suddenly grabbed his arm, nearly knocking them over in the process.

"Yes?" Harry asked. Their faces were a few inches apart. If she wanted to, she could just lean a bit and kiss him.

_No, I won't do that. He doesn't like me like that,_ Hermione reminded herself. Instead, she firmly kissed the corner of his mouth, lingering a bit, and then pulled away.

Harry stared at her wide eyed. He certainly wasn't expecting that, but he liked it none the less. She grinned and followed him to the hairdresser, not noticing the scowls that the teens behind them were sporting. Cassandra noticed, however, and decided that Rick's plan would soon start.

"Hello, I'm Cassandra," she said cheerfully, taking out her hand, showing perfectly manicured nails.

Harry shook her hand and answered, "Harry Potter," he said, smiling slightly. Cassandra looked over at Hermione and nodded, not bothering to talk to her.

"Harry, if you'll sit here." She motioned to the chair and he sat. "Now—" she started, but was cut off by both Hermione and Harry.

"Just cut of a few inches," they said in unison. Hermione blushed and looked away as Harry grinned at her. She could read him like a book.

"Aww, that's it? C'mon, Harry, how bout I surprise you? Rick over there suggested something that'd make you look totally hot!" Cassandra said, fighting the urge to squeal. This Harry bloke was really hot—wearing that tight black shirt with the loose black jeans—and Rick said have a bit of fun with him before she started her "job."

Harry looked at Hermione who sighed. It was almost as if he were asking permission from her. She smiled slightly, that Cassandra girl didn't look _too_ bad, so she figured that she couldn't do too much harm. Hermione nodded and Harry grinned a thanks.

"Okay, just don't make him bald or anything," Hermione told Cassandra.

"What are you, his mother?" Cassandra spat.

"Nah, just his girlfriend. She's got him whipped!" Rick commented from the front.

Laura walked up to Cassandra and Hermione, giving Cassandra a wink, and led Hermione away from Harry. "C'mon Mio, she's got going to kill him or anything. She's just going to have some fun. I promise she won't do anything to make him look less than hot. That's a promise." She inwardly grinned as Hermione scowled, not liking her nickname.

Finally, Hermione sighed, giving in. "I guess. I just have a bad feeling is all." She sat by Harry's bags, patiently waiting for Harry's haircut to be finished.

Harry was frightened. He wasn't sure if he had some sort of phobia, but he was starting to get scared of all girls that weren't Hermione. The first three—Laura, Rachel, and Sara—bombarded him with clothes. And this one was pouring some green stuff into a bowl and mixing, all the while grinning.

"Don't worry, this won't hurt," Cassandra said, turning Harry away from the mirror.

Harry gulped; he had a feeling that this wasn't going to turn out well.

After nearly half an hour, Cassandra turned Harry around, letting him audibly gasp in horror.

His hair was still black, yes, but it was now much shorter, about two inches, and was slightly spiked with emerald green tips. You could see the scar clearly now and his eyes stood out more clearly since the tips of his hair was dyed the same exact color as his eyes.

"Your hair was so messy that I decided to spike it and dye it," Cassandra said, grinning evilly.

"But… short… green… scar…" he said to himself. "Hermione's dad!" He said, starting to get worried. How was Mister Granger going to take the new image? _Shit! He's surely going to take me to the Juvenile Center now! Shit, shit, shit, shit,_ his mind kept repeating.

"You know what'd look even better?" Cassandra said, looking at Harry's eyebrow and lip.

"What…?" Harry asked slowly. He wasn't sure if he'd like the answer very much.

"Piercings!" Cassandra grinned.

Harry's eyes, if possible, widened even more.

"Wh-wha--" Harry was at a loss for words. This was where she crossed the line. He was _not _about to get piercings. But at the moment, his mouth decided to take a short holiday.

"I'll take that as a yes." She grabbed his arm tightly and took him to the back of the room.

Harry struggled, but the girl had a strong grip for her size. Plus, he wasn't going to just her walk all over him, he was going to be a man.

Or so he tried…

Never underestimate the female gender… ever.

And because he tried, he got _much_ more than he bargained for… ouch.

Hermione was starting to get worried, it had been nearly an hour and she still hadn't seen Harry. Rick and Brett assured Hermione that Cassandra was just making sure that Harry was going to look his very best. The girls said that she was just taking her time making him look "hot." Hermione was really starting to get irritated by them, they just talked too much, giggled too much, squealed too much, said "hot" about Harry too much, they did a lot of things too much. Now, Hermione usually wasn't the one to judge people, but she really never liked them. She didn't know what her mother was thinking when she let them go with them, but apparently she thought that they were her friends.

She sighed; this was going to be a long day. It hadn't even been three hours and she was getting tired.

She heard the girls gasp, all looking behind Hermione. She turned and gasped in horror.

There Harry was, hair short, spiked, and the tips of it dyed emerald green. No, the hair wasn't what Hermione gasped about, it was the piercings that he had. He had a silver eyebrow ring in his eye brow, and near the corner of his lip, was another piercing.

"Harry!" Hermione said, running up to him and checking his face, making sure there were no more piercings. "What happened?"

"That girl, Cassandra," Harry muttered, so only Hermione could hear. Hermione scowled deeply; she knew that the girl was no good.

"Stick out your tongue," Hermione commanded. Harry looked at her oddly, but complied.

There wasn't a piercing there, so she visibly relaxed. "Good. Harry, did you even want these?" Hermione asked quietly, stepping closer to him. She touched the piercing on his lip, brushing her fingers along his lip slightly.

"No, not really," Harry said just as quietly. He was willing to keep the piercing if she kept touching and tracing it like that.

"Then take it off," she said, still tracing his piercing, though now she was barely touching the piercing, but his actual lips.

"I don't think I want to now," he said, leaning in a bit. He titled his head a bit and closed his eyes slightly, leaning in for her lips. Hermione closed her eyes and dropped her hand to his neck, encircling it. He was getting closer, just an inch more and he'd feel the softness of her lips.

"Harry!" Laura said, walking up to them. They sprang apart, looking everywhere but each other.

"Laura, you just ruined a 'moment'!" Rachel said, sighing dramatically. "You're cruel."

Laura simply shrugged and stared at Harry, taking in his new appearance. "You look, if possible, even hotter than before." She stared at the scar on his forehead and frowned slightly. "Where'd you get that from?" she asked, pointing at the lighting bolt scar.

Harry hesitated a bit, so Hermione responded. "His parents died in a car crash when he was one," she said, looking at him sadly.

Harry looked down, fighting tears. He never did like to talk about his parents, but he was glad that Hermione answered for him. He took her hand and looked at her, asking if they could go.

"Let's go, I don't think that we have anything--" Hermione started, but was cut off by Brett.

"No way! We've still got a while to go, now we gotta--" He started, but was cut off by Rachel, Laura, and Sara, who all squealed:

"Accessories!"

"And those stupid glasses!"

Harry and Hermione groaned. This was going to be a _long_ day.

After another long hour, Harry and Hermione were finally free of Laura, Rachel, Rick, Brett, and Sara's clutches. They bought Harry a silver wristwatch, a silver bracelet, sunglasses, and several more eyebrow/lip rings in a few more colors (since he had two, the girls thought they should buy twice as much). They'd also gotten Harry new glasses (though he didn't really want them), and contacts, too. He only wore one of the glasses—rectangular and wire-rimmed, but he sure as hell wasn't going to wear the contacts (there was no way that he'd stick his finger in his eye). He'd grown quiet accustomed to his circle glasses, and felt a bit sad that he was getting new ones, but he wasn't going to show it. He still kept them, in his pocket, just incase. Before he left, though, they made him wear the new glasses so he could "show the future in-laws their son's new look," as Brett and Rick would love to say.

Harry, who still wasn't too keen on the piercings and new hair, was now even more scared. He had been avoiding talk with Hermione, though they still found a way to talk "through their eyes," as Rachel loved to say. Since their almost-kiss, Harry was a bit nervous around her. His hand was loosely laced through Hermione's fingers, and she was looking around, avoiding his eyes. They each held a few store bags, since Brett and them had left, Harry and Hermione had to face Missus Granger alone.

He saw her sitting in a corner, reading a book and sipping some iced tea. She hadn't even noticed anyone's presence until two people sat in front of her. She gasped, taking in Harry's appearance. She saw that his hair was _much_ shorter, and it was now dyed at the tips; his eyebrow was pierced, too, she noticed, as was his lip. He wore new, more fitting, clothes and he had new glasses. She noticed that he was looking everywhere except her, and Hermione for some reason.

She took a deep breath, put her book down, and put her hand gently on his.

"Harry?"

Nothing.

"Harry?" she asked.

Again, nothing.

"Harry, look at me," she said a bit more firmly this time. He slowly looked at her, as if ashamed. She smiled at the youth. "Harry, when I said get some new clothes, I didn't mean change your whole look."

He smiled slightly. "I'm sorry," he said.

Hermione decided to start talking. "It wasn't his fault; it was those girls' fault! You remember Rachel and Sara, from primary school? They made Harry buy all of this stuff. And then there was that awful woman Cassandra, I bet she was one of their friends; she cut Harry's hair and pierced him. And--" she said, but was interrupted by her mother.

"Hermione, dear, I understand," Ann said. "I'm not mad, okay? As long as Harry likes it, I'm perfectly fine with it. I'm just worried about your father."

Hermione's eyes widened slightly. "Dad…" she whispered to herself.

"Mister Granger… handcuffs… Juvenile Center…" Harry muttered to himself.

"Please, let's not worry about him right now. Currently he's at the Juvenile Center, he won't be home until around eight tonight, so don't worry," Ann said, hoping to reassure the two teens.

Harry sighed and tried to run a hand through his hair, only to find that he couldn't… well, not really. His hair, because of the gel, wouldn't really move. (And on top of that, Brett bought him a big bottle of gel, so Harry was going to have to use it.) He sighed again and placed his head on the cool surface of the table.

"Handcuffs… Mister Granger… shit…" he kept muttering.

"Harry, Hermione, let's go. We'll deal with him later," Ann said, getting up and picking up some of the bags. Harry nodded mutely and they got up, took the bags, and headed out of the mall.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Anyone whose name is that and/or knows people whose names are those (Rick, Brett, Rachel, Laura, Sara, and/or Cassandra) and are nice, I mean no offense. Seriously. 

If you don't like how he looks now… well… I don't know what to say. His hair is short (think of Daniel Radcliffe in the third movie) with green tips. He's got new glasses (I really wanted him to have his circle glasses, but my damn fingers wouldn't agree with me) and new clothes. The piercings, well, the eyebrow ring was going to be there for sure, but the lip one just sneaked up on me.

Till the next!


	4. David, the, err, Calm one

**Author's Notes: **Yes, I am very aware of the fact that Hermione's father is a dentist; however, as I mentioned before, this is AU, meaning Alternate Universe. So, in this, Hermione's father is a Juvenile Center owner type dude. And, as I mentioned in earlier Author's Notes, the characters will be OOC (as in Out Of Character).

Oh, and about those of you who have been complaining about Harry being a wuss, don't worry, he's not one anymore. (Hehe)

For those of you who READ Author's Notes: Thank you. Really. If someone complains about something that wasn't mentioned in the Author's Notes, then I can live with that and answer to the best of my abilities. But, if someone who doesn't read Author's Notes, and STILL complains about something that I've mentioned, then that is not acceptable. I mean really people, read the Author's Notes.

I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**0—0**

By the time Harry, Hermione, and Ann had gotten home, Catty was taking her afternoon nap. Her babysitter, a girl of seventeen (she exclaimed that Catty was being bad, and needed to stay longer—that was, after she saw Harry), named Christy, got up and walked over to Hermione (though she was looking at Harry), and said, "Hey, Hermione. Who's this guy?"

Hermione grasped on to his hand, forgetting about their almost-kiss, and plastered a sickeningly sweet smile. "This is Harry Potter, my best friend."

Harry smiled warmly at the girl, offering her his hand, which she shook greatly, not letting go. Harry tried to shake it off, but to no avail. Finally he said, "erm, can I have my hand back?"

She lazily took her hand back, stuffing it in her jean pocket. "Sorry," she said, smiling slightly. She turned around and started walking towards Missus Granger.

"So, erm, what now?" he asked quietly, holding the bags in front of her face.

"Let's go put that stuff back. I think it'll be safe for me to be in your room right now, dad won't be home until around eight or so," she said, going upstairs, bags in her arms.

Harry smiled fondly at the girl, no, woman walking upstairs. All during the car ride, he wondered why he tried to kiss her. Though, it didn't seem like she had any objections.

_Then why didn't she talk to you until just now?_ He asked himself.

"Harry?" Hermione called from upstairs. Harry got out of his trance and started going upstairs.

Once he was there, he noticed Hermione taking out his clothes from the bags. They started packing together, putting things where necessary, and others (like his extra eyebrow rings) on the dresser. They packed for a few more minutes, until Harry, who couldn't take the silence anymore, spoke, "Mione, what happened today?"

Hermione jumped from the sudden noise, put the shirt that she was currently folding down, and walked up to him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…" He wondered if he should just bring it up. Would she get mad? Would she not like him and walk away? His mind was pondering so many questions, that he just decided to bugger it all and go for the big question. "That-that kiss today. I mean, it wasn't really a kiss—I mean," he started, but Hermione cut him off.

"You mean our 'moment'?" she asked, stepping closer to him.

She was getting closer… much too close…

"Yes," he squeaked.

"I think that I was just… admiring your lip ring, and we just… got carried away, I guess," she said, looking down, mood suddenly changing. She had been so close, why couldn't she just say it?

"A-are you s-sure?" he asked, hoping that she'd say 'no.'

She sighed; it was now or never. "No…" Her voice was quiet.

"Good," he said, gaining confidence. He walked a step closer to her, and placed a hand on her cheek, while his other went on her hip.

"W-what are you doing?" She asked. She strongly told her arms to stay still, but they refused to listen, wrapping them delicately around his neck.

"Not too sure, really." He smiled hesitantly. "Part of me wants to make sure that you like me, but the other is screaming 'kiss the girl, Potter'."

Her hold on his neck just grew stronger. "Well, I do like you, and I think you should kiss the girl."

He let her go as if she were just lit on fire, and walked towards his window. Hermione grew worried, thinking the worst had just happened, and started walking towards him. Just as she was going to put her hand on his shoulder, he spoke in a soft, almost awe-like voice.

"Y-you really like me," he stated, still staring out into the window.

"Yes," she said quietly, placing her hand on his shoulder.

He couldn't believe it. Hermione Granger, girl of his dreams, actually liked him back. The thought of Hermione—no, _anyone_—liking him nearly made him want to pass out. It made chills go down his spine (though that could've been the sudden non-existent breeze, but he wasn't too sure).

She took her hand off his shoulder and turned him around so that they were facing each other. She smiled slightly, almost shyly, at him, and got closer to him.

He'd never kissed anyone properly (Cho was a pathetic excuse as a kiss, she'd nearly drowned him in her tears), so he wasn't too sure on what to do. From what he heard the boys—ahem—brag about, there were many, many ways to pleasure a girl, but he was sure that he wasn't going to be doing half of them. Plus, this was Hermione, he wasn't going to do just anything with her, he was going to _kiss_ her for Merlin's sake! This was just going to be a simple mouth-to-mouth touching, this was the new step in their friendship; crossing the boundary of friendship; they were going to start a relationship. His biggest fear, though, was Mister Granger. (He didn't fancy being on the wrong side of his knife at the dinner table.)

He wrapped his right arm around her waist delicately, while his left went to her cheek, stroking it gently. Her arms went around his neck, and she looked up at him with questioning eyes, almost asking if _he_ wanted this, rather than the other way. He smiled and leaned in, touching his lips with hers.

It felt like heaven, at least to Harry. Her lips were soft and tasted of lip gloss (though she didn't put too much on, she kept on a light coating), and oddly enough, air. He didn't really understand how she tasted of air, she just did. She smiled into the kiss and placed her lips more firmly onto his. He parted their lips slightly, sliding his tongue along her bottom lip, asking for permission. She opened a bit more, allowing him permission. His tongue sought out hers, challenging it to a duel. Their tongues playfully touched, slid, and raked the others, savoring each other's unique taste.

Since their door was already open, Harry and Hermione hadn't realized that they had an audience. In the door way, stood the tiny frame of Catherine Granger, fresh from her afternoon nap. She had a big shirt on, and wore fuzzy pink slippers. She grinned, and coughed slightly, making sure she had her sing-song voice, and started singing, "SILLY AND SISSY SITTIN IN A TREE A-B-C-D-E-F-G!"

They broke apart, lips swollen and red, and blushed madly, adding onto the red-ness that was their face. Catty ran in and started jumping, singing "Silly and Sissy, sittin in a tree A-B-C-D-E-F-G." Harry blushed madly brought a finger to his lips, feeling the piercing on the bottom corner. Hermione smiled and held his hand, watching her sister's silly antics.

Suddenly, Catty stopped, staring at Harry's face. She got off the bed and walked up to his tall frame, holding out her arms. Harry looked at Hermione, then picked her up, balancing her on his hip.

She looked at him critically for a moment, looking at his eyebrow, lip, and eyes. After a few seconds, she announced, "Silly boy has earrings in the wrong places!"

Harry grinned and said, "No, Catty, actually they're not in the wrong places. I just wanted to get them pierced," he said, the last part dripping with sarcasm. Good thing that Catty didn't catch on, though.

"So you put an earring on your lip and eyebrow?" she asked, poking his eyebrow, right next to where the blood red stud was.

"Well, in a sense, yeah. But they aren't called earrings, when they're on my lip and eyebrow, they're just called piercings," he explained. Hermione snorted and took her sister from Harry's arms, and set her down.

"Okay Catty, time to go," Hermione said, shooing her sister. Catty just stood her ground. "C'mon Catty, go to mum or something. Harry and I need to speak to each other."

"Nah uh!" exclaimed Catty, pointing two fingers towards Harry and Hermione. "You two wanna kiss!!"

They grinned and looked at each other, nodding. "Yes, Catty, we want to kiss," Harry said, wrapping an arm around Hermione's waist.

Catty crossed her arms stubbornly and said, "But I already seen you kiss." After a moment's hesitation, she added, "can I see again?" She asked hopefully.

Harry raised a pierced eyebrow. "Why?"

"'Cause." She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Because in all reality, it was… right?

"No Catty, we aren't going to kiss in front of you," Hermione said, picking her sister up and "escorting" her sister to her room (which included her locking Harry's door once she came back).

"YOU'RE NOT FAIR, SISSY!!! IF YOU WANNA KISS, THEN DO IT!!! I DON'T CARE!!!" Catty shouted, banging on the walls. Though she was screaming, she just wanted to embarrass them. Catty grinned; this was going to be a fun day.

He walked back to the door and unlocked it. Hermione raised her eyebrow in question. Harry simply shrugged and said, "If your mum comes back, she might think we're doing more than unpacking."

Hermione blushed crimson. He walked over to her and held her waist delicately, and leaned his face towards her again, pressing his lips to hers a bit urgently. She responded quickly, not too sure what to do but follow her instincts. He opened his mouth and plunged his tongue into her mouth, making her moan softly. That alone, he thought, would be his undoing. His hands traveled down her hips, and he pressed her more unto him. Her arms, which had been playing in his hair, went down to his shoulders and started massaging them lightly. He took his mouth away from hers and stared planting hot, wet kisses along her neck and jaw, occasionally lingering between the spots that made her moan louder. She moved her face towards him again and captured his mouth in another searing kiss. She took his bottom lip and nipped it softly, playing with the piercing.

While their "activities" were going on, they were not aware to the storm heading their way…

**/--l--\**

David Granger was a happy, happy man. First, there had been no new teens at the center (he'd been running low on rooms), and then there had been the fact that, when he got home, the boy wouldn't be there. From what Ann had told him, they'd be out nearly all day, as the boy had many clothes to buy—apparently. If the boy was rich, why was it, then, that he wore rags? David mentally shrugged, not caring too much. Just as long as his wife didn't pay for anything, he was alright.

Since it was only about four o'clock, and he decided to leave work early, he drove home. He took the left that led towards his home and took the key out of the ignition. He smiled broadly to himself (for what reason, he wasn't too sure of), and exited the car, grabbed two roses (one for Hermione, and the other for his wife), and headed to the front door.

He walked into the house and into the living room, glancing at his wife watching T.V. He smiled and walked up behind her and placed his hands on her eyes. He smiled and asked, "Guess who."

She smiled wickedly and responded, "Jeff? Oh, is it time already? I thought we agreed to see each other only on the weekends."

David's eyes went as round as saucers and he removed his hands from his wife's eyes, not seeing the slight smirk on her face. She turned around and put on a fake expression of surprise upon her features.

"Oh, David!" exclaimed Ann. "I thought you weren't going to be home until eight?" She asked, smirk still intact.

"Jeff?" He asked stupidly.

Even after seven weeks, Ann thought, you think he'd catch on by now. This was her game she'd play with him. Every time he'd do that, she'd think of some man's name, and call David that. Once he'd take his hands off her, she'd be utterly surprised, saying that she knew of no man, that it was all his illusion. But then after, she'd clutch her sides and start laughing hysterically (and often Catty joined in, too, not because she knew what her mother was laughing about, but just because of the reason she could join in), imitating the look of pure shock and horrification etched on her husband's face.

"Who's Jeff?" she asked, walking up to him.

"Err…"

The look on his face was nearly Ann's undoing. She waited a few minutes until she finally broke down in laughs. Suddenly, they heard a scream.

It sounded just like Catty's.

Uh oh.

"YOU'RE NOT FAIR, SISSY!!! IF YOU WANNA KISS, THEN DO IT!!! I DON'T CARE!!!"

Catty.

Ann looked worried; David wasn't supposed to hear about Harry and Hermione kissing. Wait, when had they started kissing? Was it the friendly pecks on the cheek they usually gave each other? Or was it something more? She wasn't sure, and she wasn't going to worry about it too much. She already knew that her daughter was going to start dating Harry. (The signals didn't mean anything, though. Nope, not one bit.) She smirked, but it was quickly wiped off from the look her husband was sporting.

"Kissing?" David whispered, venom spitting from his voice.

"No," Ann countered quickly, "there is no kissing. I bet it was just one of their friendly pecks." Though she doubted it herself.

Apparently, as did David, for he stormed up the steps and went straight for… Catty's room.

**/--O--\**

David walked towards his younger daughter's room, and knocked quietly on it. He wasn't going to blow up just yet. He had a plan, one that would make the young teen frightened until oblivion.

The young girl opened the door and smiled widely, knowing what her father was going to do next. She waited for him to barge in on Harry and Hermione during their snogging session, and then laugh until her sides hurt. But it never came. No, instead, he smiled slightly at her and crouched down her side.

He thought he heard a faint 'click' sound, but disregarded it, knowing that whatever they were doing, it was just adding fuel.

"Catty," David said quietly, "what did you just scream?"

Catty frowned. She wanted to see her sister and the Silly boy get yelled at! "I was screamed that they can kiss." She held her head high, forgetting about her recent thoughts.

"What do you mean 'kiss'?" he asked, eying his daughter, then the door.

"You know, daddy!" she exclaimed. "Watch, lemme show you."

She took his hand and led him towards Harry's room. She brought her small hand up to the door knob and turned it, quickly opening the door.

She grinned.

Perfect.

Harry and Hermione were kissing—no, not kissing, but heavily snogging. Harry's hands were firmly planted on her hips, literally grinding her unto him, and he was sucking on her neck. She was massaging his shoulders, moaning loudly, and bringing his lips back to hers, showing off the silver piercing on his bottom corner lip. Then, oblivious to anyone in the room except themselves, she took his bottom lip and started nipping at it, earning a groan from him.

Mister Granger couldn't take anymore. It was just too horrific! But he would have to keep his cool, if he wanted his plan to go through perfectly. He stood patiently, with Catty occasionally tugging at his shirt, and waited for the two teens to finally notice their presence.

Finally, after nearly thirty seconds, they broke apart, grinning madly. They pecked one more time and turned towards the door, where the color drained from their faces.

That was the time Mister Granger got a proper look at the 'new' Harry Potter. He wore fitting clothes—a black shirt and jeans. He had a silver watch on (though, he noted, he always wore that watch), and—_piercings?! _Yes, the boy had a piercing; not one, but two. He had a blood red stud on his eyebrow and a small silver hoop on his bottom corner lip. David looked up and nearly fainted; his hair was _much_ shorter, _and_ the tips of it were dyed emerald green. If this didn't encourage David to strangle the lad, he wasn't sure if there was anything else which would.

He put on his sweetest, fatherly voice he could, and said, "H-Hello, Hermione."

Hermione squeaked and nearly moved three feet away from Harry (showing a slight bulge in his pants). "H-hi dad," she answered, fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

"I see you went shopping." He walked further into the room, nearly laughing at the sight. There were nearly five bags, and only one bag of clothes was put away. Typical teenagers, they were. "How was it?"

"Err… great, Mister Granger. Really great," Harry responded for the first time. He made an attempt to hide the bulge, but then thought of no logical reason to. The man had already seen enough!

"That's nice," Mister Granger murmured, not paying too much attention. He was keener on knowing what was _in_ the bags than out.

_Probably condoms,_ he thought bitterly. There was no way this boy was having sex with his daughter.

Nope, not one chance. Because, Hermione, his little angel, wouldn't lose her virginity until she was a parent.

He snorted at his own reasoning, forgetting that he was in a room with two teens, ten bags, and one upset four year old.

"C'mon," he muttered, leaving the room, "lunch is just about ready."

**Author's Notes: **Gahh, that ending was horrible! But don't worry, for I have a reason as to why Mister Granger didn't blow up on sight. (Though, keep in mind, that was initially my first choice, but I thought this'd be better.)


	5. Four Year Olds and the Term Hate

**Author's Note: **FF.N wouldn't let me upload my document, so I had to cheat (wink), Family, dance, school, more dance, homework, blah, blah… you get the gist of it.

Updates will be slow until May-June…

Happy belated Easter!

**0—0 **

It had been a week an a half since Mister Granger had found Harry and Hermione kissing. He expected for Mister Granger to blow his top, infuriated with them until he couldn't utter any coherent word, but how dreadfully wrong he was. Mister Granger had taken the issue lightly, as if it were an everyday occurrence, seeing your daughter snog another teen boy's (in his _room_ nonetheless) brains out.

Nope, calm was thy Mister Granger.

He had bee calm, attempting to indulge Harry in light conversations about the 'typical' things men talked about.

Sports.

On the first day, Mister Granger talked to Harry about the fine sport that was football; he even went as far as teaching him—on his day off, of course. (Harry was slightly scared by then.) On the second day, he learned a fair bit about the sport Qudditch (though he had heard his full explanation on the sport when he arrived, he somehow 'forgot' and needed to be told again), and even risked taking out his broom from the kitchen and trying to fly. (Harry was now very scared.) But, by the eight day, Harry was nearly so scared that he would nearly squirm and hide behind Hermione, who would just chuckle.

He didn't know why he was going through the torture, though he wanted out of it. He wanted to be yelled at already!

Harry stood in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing his teeth. While he was brushing, he looked at his reflection. His hair, now short, was still unbelievably messy, though now it looked 'stylish,' as the boys had said, because it was now spiked and he still used the gel. His eyes, still the illuminating emerald, stood out magnificently with his new frames—small, though not too small, rectangular wire frames. He glanced at his forehead, the blood red stud showing from his skin, and the ever famous lighting bolt scar above his eyebrow. Harry thought about all of the times that he fought Voldemort—how many people had lost their lives because of him. Cedric, Sirius, and his parents were just four of many.

While he thought, he hadn't even realized that he brushed his teeth, brushed his hair, and dressed, ready for the day. He shrugged, not thinking too much on it, and went to his room.

There was a knock at the door. "Harry?"

"Come in Hermione," Harry called, sitting on the bed.

She entered and sat on the bed next to him. "Hey."

"Hey," he greeted smiling.

"Mum told me that she and Dad are leaving in a few minutes; they have meetings," Hermione said.

"Your dad goes to meetings? For what?" he questioned, wondering what Mister Granger would have to go to a meeting about—he was a Juvenile Centre owner, after all.

She shrugged. "I'm not too sure, actually." Harry gasped dramatically and she slapped his arm lightly. "Oh shut up, Harry, I don't know a lot of things."

"Doubt it, Granger," he retorted, leaning in and giving her a quick peck.

She smiled into the kiss, and all too soon he pulled back. He stood up. "Come on, don't want your parents to think we're doing anything else."

She rolled her eyes and left the room, leaving a grinning (yet scared) Harry behind.

Once they got downstairs, they saw Mister and Missus Granger grab their car keys. Hermione ran downstairs and enveloped them in a hug. "Bye Mum, Dad."

"Bye love. Instructions and rules are on the dining table. Now remember, we'll be back around tomorrow morning, so don't do anything bad, alright?" Ann warned. Hermione nodded solemnly.

"Bye Harry!" Mister Granger said, making Harry squeak rather loudly.

Harry cleared his throat and said, "Um, bye Mister Granger, Missus Granger."

Before departing, Mister Granger winked at Harry, making him squeak again, and he and Missus Granger finally left.

They went into the Living Room and sat. "I swear," Harry started, "your father is out to get me."

Hermione scoffed. "Honestly, Harry, my father is just being a bit nicer. He's finally seeing the light, I see."

Harry looked around the room and noticed a presence was missing. "Hey Hermione, where's Catty?"

"Oh, she's sleeping," she said waving it off.

Harry nodded and suddenly grinned. "So we're all alone?"

Hermione nodded slowly. "Yes… unless you count Catty, who is upstairs, then we're—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Harry's lips descended on hers. She smiled happily and returned the kiss. He traced her bottom lip with his tongue, asking for permission. She happily granted him access, lacing her arms around his neck, bringing him closer. Harry, having seen her reaction, placed his hands on her hips and dragged her onto his lap. She straddled his thigh as her tongue battled his, and all too soon, it was spoiled by a loud 'ewww!'

They broke apart, but apparently Harry didn't hear, for he placed his lips on her neck, sucking on the flesh lightly. Hermione pushed his lips off her neck and got off his lap, glaring at her younger sibling.

"Why are you playing kissy kissy on the couch?" Catty asked, settling herself in between Harry and Hermione on the couch.

"Erm… well," Harry stammered, "because we didn't want to go upstairs."

She seemed satisfied with that answer, because all she said was, "Oh." She suddenly brightened up and grinned. "Guess what we're gunna do today!!"

Harry cringed; when Catty said that, it only meant one--perhaps two… or all--out of many things: playing dress up, playing with make up, taking her out, or embarrassing Harry—which she had successfully done on many occasions during his stay.

"What are we going to do today, Catty?" she asked.

"We're gunna play dress up and makeover!!" she squealed, hopping away from the couch and running upstairs.

"Oh God," Harry and Hermione muttered in unison.

Since Mister and Missus Granger were gone for the day, Harry and Hermione were in charge of taking care of Catty. If they wanted to leave the house, they'd have to take her with them, not letting her out of their sight.

Hermione eyed the steps wearily. "I'll just put Catty in the shower, and then we can--"

"SISSY, I NEED TO TAKE MY SHOWER!!" Catty shouted from upstairs.

Harry grinned briefly. "Go take care of your sister, Hermione. I'll be right here."

Hermione nodded, walking up the stairs to her sister's room, getting her ready for the day.

**0—0 **

Nearly an hour later, Catty and Hermione descended the stairs, Hermione, mumbling, and Catty, sporting a yellow dress with pig tails.

Harry, who was lying on the couch, blowing spit bubbles with his mouth, looked up and saw Catty looking at him with an odd look etched on her face.

"Silly boy is being silly again," she grinned.

He licked his lips and said, "Sorry, Catty. I was bored." He sat up, giving space for Hermione and Catty to sit, but it seemed as though they (or at least Catty) had other plans.

Oh shoot…

"No time to sit, silly boy, time to play dress up, and then makeover!" Catty said jumping, her pig tails bobbing.

Harry lazily stood up and readjusted his askew glasses. "Alright, where are we going to go play dress up?" he asked.

"Upstairs, in my bedroom," Hermione answered. "A few weeks ago, mum bought a make up set for Catty because she was using mum's entire make up on herself." She chuckled as she saw Catty grasp Harry's hand and drag him upstairs.

She turned and ascended the stairs, stopping in Catty's room to get her make up. She looked under the bed, in the closet, and behind the door, but it wasn't there. She sighed. Where could it be? She knew what it looked like—a big black fluffy bag, filled (almost) to the top with make up and jewellery (though it wasn't real).

Suddenly a knock interrupted Hermione's search. "Sissy?" asked a small, high pitched voice. She opened the door and walked in, big fluffy bag on her shoulder. "Whatdya doin, sissy?" asked Catty, looking at her sister oddly.

She mentally slapped herself. "Oh, nothing, Catty. I just thought you forgot your bag in your room, so I tried to find it. Though, I see now that you've already got it." She got up and brushed off some dust from her pants.

"Oh, okay," Catty shrugged. "C'mon sissy, let's go now! Silly boy is already there!"

She smiled and nodded, following her sibling into her room. When she got there, she bit her lip hard to keep from laughing. Harry sat, knees to chest, arms wrapped around his legs, glancing nervously at the beauty products placed in front of him. There were assortments of lipsticks, eye shadow, lip gloss, blushes, foundations, and nail polishes.

Hermione rolled her eyes. _Such a boy,_ she thought, glancing at him again.

"Now that Silly boy and Sissy are here, we play dress up, makeover later, and then… then… then we dance!" she said, jumping up and down.

Harry's eyes widened, and he audibly gulped. He stretched out his legs, and after a moment, got up, walking towards Hermione. "Dance?" whispered Harry into Hermione's ear.

Hermione shrugged and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, hoping to cheer him up a bit. He smiled slightly and turned to Catty, who was eyeing some pink lipstick.

After a moment of staring at the lipstick, Catty finally spoke. "Okay, me and Sissy help Silly boy with his clothes and makeup. Then Silly boy helps Sissy. Then I go."

"But how will you dress yourself, Catty?" Hermione asked.

"I'll find a way. I'm a big girl," after a second, she added, "And my dress is going to be a surprise!"

Harry grinned. "Okay Catty, whatever you want."

Catty smiled broadly at him. She looked at Hermione and said, "Daddy should be more like him." She turned her attention back to Harry. "Daddy only says we can only do stuff if we really need to, and he thinks I'm still a little baby." She scowled. "I'm not, I'll show you."

Harry chuckled. "Alright, Catty. So, who's first?" Harry asked, looking at the two girls.

"You," they both replied in unison.

He frowned. "Why me?" he asked.

"Because you're oldest," Hermione ginned. "That's how it works with Catty; if you're older, you automatically go first."

Harry inwardly groaned. "Okay," he turned his attention back to the girls, "what do we do first?"

"Clothes!!" shouted Catty, running from the room and into the Guestroom.

Harry and Hermione walked into the room to find Catty in Harry's dresser, looking at shirts and pants. She took out a dress shirt—black with white pin stripes going down—and pyjama pants—black ones. She wasn't done yet, no, because she brought out Harry's cartoon boxers out. Looking around the room, her eyes settled on the comb and bracelets. Grinning, she took a few and went back into Hermione's room, Harry and Hermione following.

Harry blushed when Catty held up his boxers to her waist, indicating that they were _much_ too big on her.

"I couldn't find his underwear, so I juss got some pretty shorts," Catty said. Harry blushed even more so when he said this.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "She really likes to go all out," she told Harry.

"Sounds like someone else I know," he commented, leaning in for a kiss. When their lips met, Harry quickly thrust his tongue in, because he knew that someone was going to interrupt. Hermione quickly wove her arms around his neck, and his arms held onto her waist delicately as they kissed.

"Stop kissing!!" Catty shouted, slapping Harry and Hermione with his boxers. "Time to dress up the Silly boy!" she shouted, glaring at the two once they broke apart.

"I'm sorry, Catty," Harry said, hunkering down to her height and giving her a kiss on the cheek. She blushed crimson when he did that, though she didn't show it. She quickly sobered up and went over to his clothes and thrusting them into his hands.

"Dress into this, then come out and I'll do your make up."

He nodded and went into the bathroom.

A few minutes later, Harry emerged, wearing her choice clothing. He looked ridiculous, but he wasn't going to say anything because she was just a young child.

"Silly boy looks cute," Catty said smiling. Hermione just smirked at Harry's reaction.

"Uh… t-thanks, Catty," he blushed. Even if he had a girlfriend, and was her best friend for nearly six years, he could still stutter like a goose around girls if complimented.

"Okay, now makeup!!" she shouted.

Harry plastered on a grin as Hermione burst out laughing.

**0—0 **

After a few hours, Harry, Hermione, and Catty were finally 'dolled up.' Harry wore his dress shirt, pyjama pants, boxers _over_ his pants, three bracelets, no glasses (which made him nearly blind), and a 'bootiful' face. With cherry red lipstick, clear lip gloss, blue eye shadow, olive foundation, and clip on earrings, what guy wouldn't look beautiful?

Hermione wore a blue dress, black sweatpants, large hoop earrings (she wasn't sure where Catty got it from, but she suspected her Mum bought it), neon green nail polish, and her father's golf socks over her slippers. Hermione wasn't sure where Catty got her sense of fashion from, but she knew that she did not get it from her; Hermione, though she didn't care much about clothes, at least matched.

Hermione walked into the bathroom, crouching down so Catty could reach her face, applying the make up.

"What goes first again, Sissy?" Catty asked, eyeing the assortment of beauty products. Hermione kneeled on all fours and crawled until she saw the foundation, picking it up and giving it to her. "Oh, right." She smacked her head lightly, grinning softly.

As Catty applied the foundation on, Hermione wondered where Harry was. As if on cue, Hermione saw Harry enter her room—the bathroom was right across from her room—and place a plate of sandwiches and three cups of milk on the floor. He moved the extra clothes from the room and went back downstairs.

_Probably to get the smaller plates, _she thought. _Ever the clean one,_ she smiled, Catty now finished with foundation and deciding on which lipstick to use.

"I think you'll like the pink one," Catty muttered to herself, applying it on her.

After nearly twenty more minutes (Hermione never realized how much of a _perfectionist _Catty was), she finally had her make up on. She then let Catty stay in the bathroom, letting her get ready.

"I'll be a while," Catty said. "I need to look very pretty." And she closed the door.

Hermione grinned despite herself, and walked into her room. She saw Harry munching on what seemed to be a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, half empty glass of milk in front of him. He grinned and said, "Hey, Mione." His mouth was still filled with food, so it sounded more like, "ey, onee." He swallowed, took a large gulp of milk, and said, "Want a bite?"

She shook her head. "I'll have my own, thank you."

He rolled his eyes playfully. "Ever the hygienic one, aren't we?"

She slapped his arm playfully and stuck her tongue out. "Prat," she muttered, picking up a sandwich and taking a bite out of it. He only took another bite of his sandwich.

They ate their lunch in silence, occasionally taking sips of their milk, with the usual sound of shuffling coming from the bathroom. Hermione sighed contently; there was never a day when she thought there'd be this much silence, and love it so much. In Hogwarts, they'd always have classes, homework, things with the DA, or saving Harry's butt from evil. At the Burrow, there were so many people there, so that kept them busy. Even at home, she'd only have her sister, and she'd stay there for only a few months at a time, usually too caught up on homework, sending letters to Harry and Ron, or reading chapters in advance. She liked the silence, not the awkward silences she'd sometimes have, but the content silences, when words needn't be spoken.

She moved until she was next to Harry, and she placed her head on his shoulder, smiling as he wrapped his right arm around her shoulder, kissing the top of her head lightly.

"So what else are we going to do today?" he asked after some time, placing his cheek on top of her head.

She shrugged her shoulders slightly. "I'm not too sure. We could go out after this," she suggested, looking up at him.

He smiled and gave her a quick peck. "Alright, but where will we go?" he asked, wondering what a four year old would like.

"We could go to the park, take a walk, take her bike and let her ride… there are many choices, Harry."

Harry nodded his head in understanding. "Okay, I think we could let her ride her bike, and then we could go out to eat."

She rolled her eyes. "What is it with men and food?" she muttered.

"I'm a growing boy, Mione, I need to eat," he said, a hurt expression on his face.

"Oh, a growing boy, eh? I don't see much of a boy, Harry." She smirked.

He poked her ribs with his finger, making her laugh softly. "You," poke, "need," poke, "to be," poke, "quiet," poke, "little missy."

She started laughing now, trying to slap Harry's fingers away, but he was too quick, poking her everywhere now. She lay on the floor, Harry pinning her down, poking her until she was gasping for breath. He looked into her eyes—those wonderful brown eyes—and found himself grinning like an idiot. Hermione looked at him oddly, snapping her fingers in front of his face.

"Oh, sorry," he muttered, getting up. She, too, got up and cuddled Harry, smelling his unique scent. "Are you sniffing me?" he asked as he heard a rather loud 'sniff.'

"No," she blushed, hiding her face in the crook of his neck.

"Alright," he said unconvinced. He wrapped his arms around her, lunch long forgotten, and turned his head, kissing her cheek lovingly. She smiled and turned her face so he could kiss her properly. His mouth descended on hers, lips brushing softly, almost as if it were a breeze, and he pulled back, kissing her nose lightly. He smiled and laid his head back on the edge of the bed, still holding onto Hermione, and waiting for Catty to emerge.

Hermione settled her head on his chest, thinking. It had been a few months since Sirius' death, and she had the occasional thought that she was just being used as grief therapy. Though, her mind concluded, Harry wouldn't do that to anyone. If he were grieving, he was doing a pretty good job hiding it. Sirius was as close to a father Harry could have, and all too soon, he was snatched away from him, just as his mother and father. He'd sometimes show the sadness in his eyes, a small tear would escape him rarely, and sometimes he'd even have nightmares. Every time she'd try to comfort him during the nightmares, he'd simply shoo her away, telling her that he was used to them—ever since he was fourteen. She was devastated, her own boyfriend wouldn't let her comfort him at nights, and she would have to go to her room, staring into the ceiling, wondering if she had done something wrong that day. Though, she reasoned, that it was just his nature. Concealing his feelings from everyone else was just how he was.

She took the thoughts away from her head and concentrated on the soft beatings from his heart. She picked her head up and watched him, taking in his features. He was sleeping, she thought amusedly. It had been a long day, even though it was about one o'clock; Harry woken up earlier than usual and Catty had dragged him off—and her—to play with her. She kissed his neck lightly and set placed her head back on his chest and closed her eyes, content just sitting, cuddling, and enjoying the feeling of being in her boyfriend's arms.

Catty emerged a few minutes later, clad in a lavender coloured dress, white knee socks, and make up that was put on to the best of her abilities. She walked into the room and found Harry and Hermione sleeping.

She grinned.

Yay…

She walked up to Harry, getting close to his face, and yelled, "WAKEY, WAKEY SILLEY BOY!!"

Harry and Hermione screamed and jumped, his wand automatically raised in front of her chest, ready to fire a curse.

Catty yelped when Harry screamed and jumped with he did. But, she became frightened when Harry brought out a wand in front of her chest, his eyes ablaze. She suddenly found herself visibly trembling as his wand touched her chest.

He still didn't have his glasses on, though he saw the small girl in front of him. Hermione stayed silent, glaring at her sister. He blinked a few times and asked for Hermione to bring his glasses. He still hadn't let his wand down, just in case. Hermione arrived a minute later and put his glasses on for him, letting him see properly.

He quickly put his wand down and went to the little girl, enveloping her in a hug. She was now crying, scared, and wondering why he pulled the wand in front of her.

"I'm sorry, Catty," Harry whispered, pulling back. He wiped a few of her tears and kissed her forehead.

She scrambled back and ran to Hermione, wrapping her small arms around her sister's waist. "I… silly boy…" she whimpered.

"Shh," she placated, "Harry did nothing wrong. He was startled, and he acted upon instinct." She brought up her face so she could see her. "You shouldn't have done that, though. It wasn't right."

She whimpered and brought her head back down, her grip tightening.

"Look, Catty, I'm really sorry," Harry apologized sincerely.

"No!" she shouted, running into her room and shutting the door. "I hate you, mean-y!"

Harry sighed and sat down, throwing his wand across the room. "Fucking wand," he muttered. "Why did I have to do that? Now she hates me." He lay on the bed, his chest heaving.

Hermione walked over to him and sat on the bed. "Don't worry, Harry. This happens to me at least a few times a week; she'll love you again in a few hours."

"I don't know," he mumbled. After a few minutes of silence, Harry outstretched his arms, "sleep with me?" he asked hopefully. He really needed to sleep, and since Catty now hated him, and he had no plans for the rest of the day anymore, he thought that right now would be a better time than ever to sleep. He only hoped that Hermione would sleep with him, too.

She looked at him, then at the door. She sighed, "Okay, but let me tell Catty first. I'll be right back."

He nodded and she left the room.

When she came back, she saw Harry under the covers, part of it opened so she could climb in. She nervously went in and snuggled to Harry. Putting one arm under her head, another around her waist, he perched his chin atop her head, falling asleep instantly. She wrapped her arms around his torso and she, too, fell asleep almost instantly.

**0—0 **

When they woke up, it was nearly seven o'clock. Hermione yawned and stretched, and got out of bed. Harry woke up soon after, the same routine as her, and proceeded to get out of bed, putting his glasses on.

"You hungry?" he asked, going into his room to get some clothes. She followed, silently watching as he took off the boxers that were over the pyjama pants off, and taking some ripped jeans and a blue shirt.

"Sure," she answered, walking over to him.

"Do you want to go out to eat?" Quickly, he added, "With Catty, too, I mean."

She chuckled. "Sure. Where do you want to go?"

He shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me, really," he said.

She gave him a quick kiss. "Alright, I'll change and take this make up off, get Catty ready, and we can go. Alright?" she questioned.

"Yeah," he confirmed, giving her another quick kiss.

She smiled and walked out of his room and into hers. As she picked out her clothes, she wondered where they'd go, and wondered if Catty would forgive Harry.

**Author's Notes: **Gah just can't write anymore. Sorry. You'll just have to wait until next chapter to see if Catty forgives Harry, if they meet anyone interesting, and where they're going to eat.

Not too sure how many chapters this is going to have, but I'm aiming for four more and then the epilogue.

Sorry that the ending-middle-ish part of the chapter wasn't too humorous. I've never written a Humour/Romance story before, only one-shots. And lemme tell you, it's a lot harder than it looks.

Soo… anyway…

Reviews are much appreciated.

Oh, question: to all the British people out there, you call apartments, flats, right? (My mom says that, but she's not British—Indian actually—and since they were under British rule years ago, I was wondering if your language is similar to their English.) Just wondering, because I live in America, and I've only been to England a few times, and… yeah…


	6. Ice Cream, Red Eyes, and Lemon Drops

**Author's Notes: **Comedic in the beginning, but then it starts to get a bit more serious towards the middle/end. Sorry if it wasn't to your expectations.

**0 — 0 **

Nearly an hour later, Harry, Hermione, and Catty were ready to leave. Catty was reluctant at first, but she eventually caved in—but she was going to need a double fudge ice-cream there. She was still infuriated with Harry, so when he asked, he got a simple answer: "I DON'T EAT WITH MEANIES!" After that, he let Hermione do the deed.

At the moment, they were walking down the narrow road, wondering where they could possibly find anywhere decent to eat. Harry, holding Hermione's hand, looked around, admiring the beautiful landscape. Hermione didn't live in the city or the country, but the view around the nearest town was amazing: the fading pink sky showed the illuminating sun, slowly waning until the moon came. He smiled in admiration; he never had the privilege of watching such a magnificent sky during his stay at the Dursleys. He glanced sideways at Hermione, who was holding on to Catty's hand, and smiled. _She is a wonderful girl,_ he thought, giving Hermione's hand a tight squeeze. She looked sideways and he shrugged.

"So, Harry," Hermione broke the silence, "do you know where we're going?"

He merely shrugged again. "I wouldn't really know, Hermione. You live around here, not me. Remember?" He playfully nudged her side.

"Well, true, but you offered to take us to dinner." She stole a sideways glance at him.

"Yes, but I still have no idea where we're going." He grinned and strolled on, wondering where exactly they were going. "And besides, if I remember correctly, it was _you_ who led us here—where ever here is." His diction was teasing.

Hermione sighed and looked down where her sister walked a happy smile on her face. "Catty, do you know where we're going?" she asked.

Her head tilted up, and she grinned, but when she saw Harry's head peek through her shoulders, she kept a straight face. "Yes," she said seriously. "We're going where Grandma takes us on Christmas."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "How do you know that's where we're going?"

"That's cause we _always_ go here when she's here." She shook her head. "Duh!"

Harry laughed and Catty glared at him. "I'm sorry," he quickly said.

"Good, you better be," she muttered.

Hermione now broke out in a laughing fit.

**0—0**

Once they had finally found a decent restaurant, suitable for children, the three found their seats and picked up their menus. Looking at their menus, they wondered what they could eat. Harry was still a bit full from the afternoon, but that didn't matter, because he could eat anyway.

The waitress soon came and flashed the three a smile. "Hello, my name is Mayella, are you ready to order?"

Harry gave her his menu and said, "I'll just have fish and chips, thanks." Mayella nodded and started writing.

"I'll have the same," Hermione said shortly after, handing the menu over. Nodding, she looked over at Catty, whose face was scrunched up in concentration, trying to decipher the words.

"I want… a… sandwich," Catty announced, glad that she could read something, even if she got it from the picture.

"Okay then," Mayella said, taking her children's menu. "So two orders of fish and chips, and one children's sandwich, got it," she said, checking it along. "Would you like anything to drink?"

"Just water for me," Hermione said.

"I'll just have a soda, I guess," Harry said shrugging.

"Lemonade!" Catty grinned.

Mayella chuckled. "She's a wonderful child you two have there," she said smiling.

Harry and Hermione opened their mouths to retort, but Catty beat them to it. "I know I am," she replied smugly. Mayella gave them another smile and left.

A few minutes later, Hermione asked, "Harry, do you have your wand?" She looked over his shoulder and saw three people she really did _not_ want to meet right now: Laura, Rick, and Brett. She sharply turned her head, forcing herself to watch the silverware.

"No, why?" he asked, turning to face her. "I left it back at your house… Actually, come to think of it, I think it's still back in your room where I threw it."

Hermione nodded, stealing a glance at the three. "No reason, Harry. Don't worry, I was just wondering." She offered him a feeble smile in hopes that he'd change the subject, but he noticed something wasn't right and started to get worried.

"Is something wrong, Hermione? What happened?" he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Nothing," she answered simply. Quickly changing the subject, she brought her attention to her younger sibling. "So, Catty, did you figure out the maze?" She watched as her sister trying, unsuccessfully, trying to get from the beginning of the shoe to the other, which was in the middle.

Catty looked up and glared at her sister. "Yes, I'm juss tryin new ways to get there." With that, she went back to her maze.

Harry chuckled, nearly half of the maze was coloured in various shades of red, blue, and green, none of which led to the middle. Catty's head shot up again, this time focusing her attention on Harry. "Let's see you do it," she said.

Harry raised a pierced eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Let's see _you_ do this maze!" she exclaimed, throwing the crayons in his direction and the paper, too.

"You want me to do this maze?" he asked. He nearly scoffed at the idea.

"Yes," was all she said, giving a smirk.

_I wonder if she's been corresponding with Malfoy, _Harry pondered, watching that smirk. He took a red crayon and concentrated on the maze.

He looked at the maze, and suddenly he felt a rush of memories coming back. He saw Cedric insisting that he take the cup, and him saying that they take it together; when they ran towards it, holding it, and being Portkeyed to the graveyard; when Cedric was killed without a second though; when Wormtail took the blood from him arm, effectively resurrection Lord Voldemort; and when he and Voldemort fought, Harry barely defeating him and being Portkeyed back to Hogwarts grounds, holding on to Cedric's corpse for dear life.

Harry tore his gaze away from the maze and looked around the restaurant. He saw a flash of blond hair; blond hair that was very familiar: Brett, Laura, and Rick. He cringed; maybe that's why Hermione was asking if he had his wand. Turning around, Rick saw Harry, Hermione, and Catty. He grinned and punched Brett in the arm; Brett turned around and saw the three, and he grinned, too. Bret started walking over towards them, still grinning, and leaned on the table.

"Hey," he said grinning.

"Hi," Harry and Hermione said slowly.

"Hey, Catty," Rick said joining Brett. "Sup, Harry, Mio." He grinned when Hermione glared at him for using that nickname.

"What're you doin' here?" Catty asked, fork pointed at him.

"Oh nothing," grinned Brett. "We just thought it'd be great if we could dine in with you guys."

"You can't do that!" Catty argued, fork still pointing at him. "We'd already ordered and you aint--"

"Aren't," Hermione corrected.

"Whatever," Catty said. "You aint—aren't, I mean—allowed to sit with us!" She stuck her tongue out at them. By the looks of it, Harry could tell Catty didn't take a liking to the two.

Brett's gaze faltered lightly, but didn't change drastically so that Catty could see the change. His voice was curt: "Alright, then." He sharply turned around and left.

"I'll… uh, see you later, then," Rick said, watching Hermione and Harry. "Bye, Catty, Harry, Hermione." With that bidding, he left to his girlfriend and best friend.

"Finally," Hermione and Catty muttered in unison.

Harry chuckled.

Hermione glared. "What?"

Stifling another chuckle, Harry quickly swallowed. "Sorry, it just scares me how similar you two could be."

She rolled her eyes and readjusted Catty's silverware. "Well, I am her older sister, after all. There are bound to be at least a few similarities between the two of us." Satisfied with the order—fork, knife, fork—she turned her attention back to Harry. She opened her mouth to speak, but the waitress came back, their food in hand.

"Here you are: two orders of fish and chips, and one sandwich," she said, handing them their respective dinners. Once they got their food (Catty was already eating a few chips), Mayella asked, "Is there anything else you want to order today?"

Harry and Hermione shook their heads, while Catty said, "I want ice-cream!" She grinned and put a few more of the crispy ships into her waiting mouth. The sandwich lay there, alone, while the chips got all of the attention.

"Catty, not until you finish your dinner," Hermione said.

"I think we're alright," Harry announced, smiling. "I'll get you when Catty is ready to order."

She smiled and nodded. "Okay then," she said, walking away to another customer.

Harry brought his attention back to his dinner and stuffed a few chips into his mouth.

**0 — 0**

After they finished their dinners (and Catty finished her strawberry ice-cream), Harry, Hermione, and Catty went on back home. Catty's attitude towards Harry hadn't different entirely, but it had ebbed slightly; she was now only "really" mad at him, not "really, really" mad at him. To Harry, it didn't seem like a big change, but to Hermione, she reasoned that Catty would love him by tomorrow morning.

Hermione was currently sitting on the couch (she and Harry had already tucked her into bed), reading a new version of _Hogwarts: a History,_ when she noticed Harry walking in. He sat on the couch next to her and rested his chin on her shoulder, silently wondering what was so fascinating about that book.

"Hello, Harry," Hermione said quietly, not taking her eyes off the paper.

"Hi," he said, resting his head on her shoulder and putting an arm around her. If he had to choose between reading _Hogwarts: a History_ and resting right now, he'd choose resting.

She laughed quietly, resting her head atop his. "How are you?"

He didn't need to know what she meant. He tightened his grip on her, and Hermione instantly knew how he was feeling. "I… I don't know, honestly." His words were but a mere whisper. "I know I should be grieving over the loss of Sirius, but I just can't seem to. You and Catty distracted me, I guess." He sighed, burying his face further into her shoulder. "I… Before you and your father came, I had nightmares every night—I mean… I still do, you know that, but it's different."

He had never discussed Sirius before he died, but here he was, talking to her about his deceased Godfather. She put down her book and wrapped her arms around him, hoping to give him some comfort.

"Yes, Harry, I know," she whispered, running her fingers through his hair. "I just wish you could trust me enough to always talk like this to me."

His head snapped up. "What do you mean? Hermione, I trust you with my life!" He adverted his eyes. "I-I just need to keep some things to myself, I guess." He closed his eyes and sighed loudly. He leaned in and gave her a chaste kiss. "Hermione, please, it's not that I don't trust you—because I do—I… I…" He sighed. "I don't know." Dejected, he placed his head lamely back onto her shoulder, closing his eyes.

She kissed his curly hair and placed her head, once more, atop his. "Alright, Harry. You don't have to tell me. I guess I was just too curious, yet again." She gave a soft chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood, but no such luck. Harry's hold tightened, and his breathing steadied, almost at asleep.

Hermione sighed, running one hand through his mass of hair, and the other wrapping itself around Harry. She smiled when she felt his hot breath on her neck.

"Mmm," he said quietly, a few minutes after. "G'night, Mione."

Nearly lost in sleep herself, she replied, "Good night, Harry."

Snuggling together on the couch, the two teens went into a world of dreams… and nightmares.

_Sirius was roaring with laughter, blood staining the flesh on his skin. Next to him stood a very pregnant Hermione, tears staining her clothes. Harry watched the two in confusion. _What are they doing here, and why is Hermione pregnant?_ Harry wondered while walking over._

"_NO, DON'T MOVE ANY FARTHER!!" Hermione shouted, moving back as if Harry were the bubonic plague. _

"_What do you mean, Hermione? It's just me, Harry," he said gently, hoping to get closer._

_Once again, Sirius erupted with laughter. "Don't you see, Harry. Don't you know where we are?" he asked._

_He looked around. The walls were bare, there was no ceiling when he looked up, and everywhere he saw, it was black. He was in a vast room of darkness. "What – I -"Harry stammered, wondering where he was._

"_Harry, you abandoned me! How could you?!" Hermione shrieked, clutching her belly. _

"_What are you talking about, Hermione? I never abandoned you!" Harry shouted back. _

"_YOU SELFISH PIG, YOU LET ME DIE!" Hermione shouted, breaking down in a fit of sobs. _

_Harry's eyes widened considerably due to shock. "What do you mean?" he whispered. _

_Hermione answered through tears: "You got me pregnant, Harry. I… You… You were being a selfish pig, Harry! I told you that I wanted to wait, but no, you had to be selfish and do what you wanted to! YOU RAPED ME!" she shrieked, suddenly falling onto the ground. _

"_Second time you've messed up, mate," Sirius said sniggering. _

"_What…?" he asked thoroughly confused. _

_Sirius sighed. "Honestly, Harry, how dense can you get?" He laughed. "Remember back in fifth year, where you let me _fall behind the veil?!"_ Now he was shouting, too, tears escaping his black eyes. _

"_I… I…" Harry started backing away, away from Hermione and Sirius. "I… It wasn't my fault," he was saying. "It wasn't my fault. IT WASN'T MY FAULT!!" he shouted, a tear escaping his eye. _

"_OF COURSE IT'S YOUR FAULT!" Hermione shouted. "IT'S ALWAYS BEEN YOUR FAULT! DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE YOU'VE KILLED?! SIRIUS, REMUS, CEDRIC, NEVILLE, AND NOW ME!" she shouted, advancing towards him. "DON'T YOU SEE? YOU'VE KILLED US ALL!"_

_Suddenly, the dream turned worse._

"_I have done what you had told me to," Harry said obediently. Voldemort smiled. _

"_Good work, my ally," he said smirking. Harry smiled evilly. "Now your next job: kill all of the Mudbloods and we shall rule all of the Wizarding World." _

"_Wonderful plan," Harry grinned. "We shall be the perfect rulers."_

"_Just remember, you could kill the one Mudblood—Granger girl—and you could kill every last one." Grinning, Voldemort left Harry to ponder his next plans. _

"NO!!" Harry shouted, thrashing around the couch. His eyes were still closed, and the blanket that had somehow found its way onto his body, was wrapped around him from waist down. Hermione, Catty, and their parents were surrounded by the couch, wondering what was wrong with the boy.

Ann crouched down in front of him and inspected him. He was sweating immensely, his body was ice cold, he was thrashing around, and he kept on shouting things like, "_no," "I never," _and other things that seemed to be in his snake language.

Hermione crouched in front of him, nearly shoving her mother out of the way. "Harry, love, please wake up!" she cried desperately. He did nothing but thrash around. "Please!"

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, revealing crimson instead of the beautiful emerald green. Quickly getting up from the couch, his hand was pointed in Hermione's face. Catty screamed and ran into the kitchen, scared beyond her wits. Mister and Missus Granger were behind Harry and Hermione, their eyes wide with fear. (Although he owned a juvenile centre, he was never confronted by a magical teenager—especially if he was as powerful as Hermione partook him to be. He was scared, to say the least.)

Eyes widening, Hermione did the only thing she could: move out of the way. But she was not quick enough, for Harry had somehow cast a _'Stupefy'_ in parstletongue in the direction of Hermione, sending her flying back into the wall. She whimpered, knowing that she had broken her arm in several places, and that her head was hurting profusely. Slowly, she lost conscious.

Not bothering to help her, his eyes locked onto Mister Granger. He grinned evilly and his hand shot out in front of him, ready to fire a spell. He thought of '_Avada Kedavra'_, but before he could utter those words, Mister Granger punched him in the jaw, sending him staggering towards the couch.

Eyes flashing, if any more, dangerously, Harry quickly punched Mister Granger. He fell, taking his shaken wife with him, both hitting the ground roughly. Grinning, Harry went in search for Catty.

He went into the kitchen, where he saw the little girl crying. Suddenly, he shook his head and his eyes turned back to their original emerald green. He felt dizzy, ignoring the little girls moaning and tears, he clutched onto the counter, willing himself to stay up. The throbbing in his scar wasn't helping, and from the taste of it, there was blood coming from it, as well. Giving into the darkness, he fell.

**0—0**

"Albus, come quickly!" Remus shouted. "There has been powerful magic detected at the Granger residence!"

Albus got up quickly from his desk, and nodded. "Very well, Remus. Inform the Order and apparate to the vicinity immediately."

**0—0**

It had taken the Order fifteen full minutes before they could apparate to the Granger residence. After a quick '_Alohamora,' _they went inside, only to gasp. Hermione was lying on the floor, flood emitting from her arm and forehead. Her arm was bent in the wrong direction, and her breathing was erratic. She wasn't dead by a long shot, but she was badly hurt. Mister and Missus Granger were on the floor, unconscious. Mister Granger had a bleeding jaw, and Missus Granger, while she didn't look hurt, was visibly shaken up, and was also unconscious.

Albus quickly apparated away to get Madam Pomfrey.

Remus went into the kitchen and saw a small girl—Miss Granger, if he guess correctly—who was crying, clutching a small bear, staring at Harry.

_Oh Merlin, Harry._

"HARRY'S IN HERE!" shouted Remus, crouching in front of Harry, making sure he was still alive. His pulse was steady.

The Order came in quickly and saw Remus with Harry. They were too shaken up that they didn't notice Harry's new appearance.

"His pulse is steady, but he seems very exhausted." Remus tried to pick up Harry, but to no avail. Quickly putting a feather light charm on him, he picked him up and put him on the couch. Hermione was on a cot, as were Mister and Missus Granger. Catty was still in the kitchen, crying.

"C'mon, little girl," Tonks said to Catty. "I won't bite. I promise."

"W-where are we going?" she asked quietly.

"To the sitting room," Tonks explained. "Let's go, I bet you could tell me what happened."

Nodding, Catty took hold of Tonk's hand and led her into the sitting room. When she saw her parents and sister lying on the bed, with Madam Pomfrey fixing Harry and Hermione's injuries, she started sobbing once more. Hermione's arm wasn't bent in the wrong direction anymore, but it was in a sling, while she rested peacefully. Her mother and father were sleeping on the bed. She ran over to them and hugged them, hoping they'd wake up.

"Daddy, wake up," she whispered. He did nothing.

"Catherine," Albus spoke up, startling the young female, "your mother and father are fine. We had just given them, and your sister, a potion so they could rest peacefully." His grandfatherly voice somewhat placated the young child.

"Oh… O-okay," she said quietly, not moving from her spot.

"Do, do you think you could tell us what happened?" Remus urged just as quietly.

She nodded and began to explain. "I… I was just sleepin, and then I heard mummy and daddy come in, so I went downstairs. I hearded daddy gasp an sayin somethin like 'boy's leavin today' or somethin, I'm not too sure. Anyway, then all of a sudden, Silly Boy started shakin, n sissy fell offa the couch. I got scared then." Her voice was shaky. "An… an then Silly boy juss wakes up n he's got these scary red eyes. An… an then he stucked his hand out at sissy and hissed, an she flewed back at the wall." She held onto her sleeping father tighter. "An then I ran in the kitchen, an then I think daddy punched Silly Boy. An then I think he hurt him back…" she trailed off.

"Thank you for informing us, Catherine." Dumbledore walked over to the young child and patted her back. "Your parents and sister shall be waking up shortly," he said. "Hopefully by the end of the hour, so we won't have to wait long."

"What about Harry?" she asked, using his first name for the first time. "Is… is he dead?"

Remus smiled grimly. "No, Catty, he's not dead yet. Not by a long shot." He saw Harry slowly inhale and exhale. He thought for a moment before asking, "What did colour did you say Harry's eyes were?"

"Red…?"

The Order's eyes widened in shock, and Tonks even audibly gasped. Albus looked deep in thought, while Snape looked at Harry with pity. "Boy couldn't even hold off the Dark Lord from entering his mind. Pity, Potter."

"Don't talk to an unconscious person, Snape," Remus said coolly. "One might think you're a bit loose up there." He pointed to his head.

"I think that will be enough childish behaviours from you two," Albus interrupted.

Snape just muttered something and left.

"Honestly, and you call _me_ childish," Remus muttered. He saw Harry sleep, and finally noticed the changes he went through. He saw the blood red stud in his eye brow—_I wonder why he got that—_and the small hoop on his bottom corner lip. _Wow, he certainly wanted to try something new, _he thought amusedly. Seeing the short, spiked, green-tipped hair, however, made him almost laugh out loud. He was just about to say something when he noticed Harry's breathing patterns change, and they suddenly became erratic. He was clutching the sheet that was put over him, and his face was scrunched up. Beads of sweat started forming, his breathing was still erratic, and there was a sort of glow to him.

"Albus, someone, come here! Something's happening to Harry!" he nearly shouted. Albus and the Order rushed over, while Madam Pomfrey pushed them to the side so she could get a better look at him.

"He's going to wake up." Madam Pomfrey brought out a potion and put it down his throat. "I thought I gave him a Dreamless Sleep potion." She sighed. "I'm getting much too old now," she said to herself.

Harry coughed a few times and turned around, muttering something incoherent. Remus looked at them, confused, but did not say anything. Albus went upstairs, and he looked at him in confusion.

Catty fell asleep, and was now sleeping on her father's stomach. Hermione started stirring, but didn't fully wake up. Mister Granger was slowly waking up, and Missus Granger was still out like a light.

Albus finally descended the stairs, trunk floating behind him. "I believe I misjudged that Harry would be alright here. I hope that he'll like it when he arrives at the Dursleys once more. We must re-new the blood protection bonds, anyway. It has been nearly a month," he explained.

Before they had a change to ask 'why,' Remus heard Harry muttering. "_No, I didn't. Not my fault. Please, I didn't. Don't leave me. I'm sorry, but it's not my fault. No, please. No…" _Harry was mumbling, a tear gliding down his cheek.

Remus shook his shoulder. "Harry? Harry, please wake up."

He mumbled some more and shook off his hand. "_Not my fault. Please, don't leave me. You're the only one I have. No family… Please, don't… I didn't… I never touched you. I never wanted to hurt you. I love you. Why did you leave?" _

Remus shook his shoulder a bit more fiercely, and his voice was a bit louder: "Harry, wake up!"

"_No, I won't. I can't. No…"_

"Harry!" He was now shouting.

Harry shot up and looked around the room, frightened. His eyes were a dull green, nearly gray, and he looked very exhausted. He saw Catty sleeping on Mister Granger—whose eyes were transfixed on him, glaring daggers at him. He looked to his right, and felt a lump forming in his throat. Hermione was lying on a bed, stretching, returning his gaze.

"Harry," she said quietly.

Remembering the dream, he quickly shot up and headed for the door. "Harry!" she shouted, getting up.

"Lie back down, Miss Granger!" Madam Pomfrey said sternly.

"No, I need to see Harry," she said stubbornly, heading for the door.

Since both were weak, it took a lot of energy to make it to the door. Hermione's head still hurt slightly, and Harry was feeling dizzy and nauseous already. Before he could make it to the door, however, he fell on his knees, his breathing erratic.

Seeing this, Hermione ran to him and kneeled beside him. He quickly shrugged off her hand that was on his shoulder, and attempted to get up, but failed miserably. He ended up falling backwards, causing Remus and the rest of the Order to come bustling in. Remus ran to him and picked him up, taking him back to the couch, while hearing Harry muttering, "_No, I never touched you. Please, don't… I can't… I didn't…"_

Hermione felt tears in her eyes, but blinked them back. She stood up, feeling a bit dizzy from getting up too quickly, and went into the sitting room, where Madam Pomfrey was checking over him.

"He seems to be fine, just extremely exhausted," she was saying. "I'm not too sure what happened, but I have a feeling it include You-Know-Who." She sighed and turned. "Mister Potter will be fine, just give him a bit of time to rest." She walked away, muttering, "Honestly, I wonder why he'd pick a child of all people!"

"Dad?" asked Hermione, walking over to her father, who was still glaring at Harry.

"Yes, Hermione?" he replied, watching his daughter come to him.

"What… what happened after… after I was knocked unconscious?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Not a lot. I punched him. He punched me and I fell, taking Ann with me." He went back to glaring at Harry. "I want that boy out, now," he said.

"Dad," Hermione said, "please, don't start this again."

"Hermione, this boy is a danger to all of us!"

She rolled her eyes. "That's only because he was possessed. Didn't you see his eyes? They were _red_, not green!" She watched Harry fall into sleep, occasionally muttering something she couldn't quiet hear. "I… I think Vold—Voldemort was possessing him…"

"Voldemort?" he asked in confusion.

"This evil wizard that wants Harry dead," she explained for the umpteenth time. She already knew her father knew, but didn't understand why he kept on asking.

"What did he do?" he asked.

"Survive," she said simply, not bothering to elaborate.

Not bother to ask any further questions, David set his eyes to his sleeping wife. He wasn't sure how he fell on her, but he did, and now she was unconscious, all because of that boy.

He glared at him. He would have some _major_ plans for this boy after he woke up.

"So," Albus said pleasantly, "lemon drop, anyone?"

**Author's Notes: **Couldn't resist the last line. Grin. I know it wasn't as comedic, but this is Harry Potter, and something bad—the magical bad—is bound to happen, and guess what happened!? (How I predict these things, I haven't the slightest idea.)

Reviews are much appreciated.


	7. Handcuffs and Christmas

**Author's Notes: **Once again, I'm very sorry for the delay.

* * *

Once the Order had deemed it safe, they left, leaving the Grangers (two of whom were still asleep), and Harry. He was still resting (up in the Guest Room, now), and Hermione was by his side, holding his hand. She knew that he wasn't going to wake up, but she wanted to be there anyway.

"Hermione, dear," David pleaded, "please get some rest. This boy is sleeping peacefully, and you need your rest, too."

Hermione shook her head sleepily. She laid her head on the bed and held on tighter to his hand. "No," she muttered.

He sighed. "Hermione, come here. I need to talk to you." He walked into the room, ignoring the light snores of the _boy_ in the bed, and took hold of his daughter's arm. She resisted. "Hermione," he warned.

She groaned. "Nothing is going to happen. I swear. I just want to be here with him." She set her head back on to the bed, frowning slightly when her father held her arm again.

"Hermione, it's not a request; it's a command. I need to talk to you, _now."_

Muttering, "Honestly, you act as if I'm going to jump on him the moment you leave," she got up. Glaring at her father, she left the room.

Sighing, David left, too, leaving Harry alone.

Once he got into Hermione's room, he shut the door roughly. "What do you think you're doing, young lady?" he asked, voice hard.

"What do you _think_ I'm doing, father?" she asked sarcastically.

"I think you're being rude, crude, and obnoxious," he said, glaring at her.

"Dad, you act as if he's committed a crime!" she shouted. Her eyes were filling with tears, and she didn't like the fact that she was arguing with her father. Her father had always had a soft spot for her, but when she went against his wishes, he would treat her as if she were a peasant. She had never been abused before, but her father had shouted at her a few good times, over the years.

"He _has,_ Hermione!" he retorted. "He _hurt you!_ He caused you _physical harm!_ This was not a scratch you receive when you trip on pavement!"

"_I know that!!" _she shouted, tears now flowing out of her eyes. "_He was possessed!_ Can't you understand that?! Lord Voldemort possessed him! His eyes weren't _green_, they were _red!_" She plopped on to the bed and lay down, "He didn't have any control. He couldn't… And now…"

"He's leaving." It was simple, and David meant it. He would not stay in the Granger residence for any longer than he had to. "I don't care what you, or your mother, say, but he's leaving. I can't let him endanger my family more than he already had.

"Honestly! (Hermione was suddenly reminded of how Ron would react when she said that—annoyed beyond belief.) I don't care whether or not this boy was possessed by Lord What's-His-Face or Michael Jackson--"

"Michael Jackson? That American singer?" she asked incongruously. "Why would _Michael Jackson_ possess Harry?"

He sighed in frustration. "That's not the point, Hermione! The point is that--"

"Harry is staying, at least until his birthday," she cut in, smiling smugly.

Bad move.

"NO!" Turning around, hands fists in his hair, he glared at the wall. (He always did this when he was particularly angry, though Hermione never understood why.) Sitting on the floor, hands in his hair, he took a long, calming (Hermione didn't think it was very calming, mainly because it was through clenched teeth) breath and released it. "Why do you date the _one_ boy in the United Kingdom that's being hunted—and possessed—by a Dark Lord? There are so many other boys you could choose from—not that I'm insinuating that you look for boys, because you are going to college, get a great career, and _then_ you can find boys. There are doctor boys, lawyer boys, boys that are writers, poets, _so many choices, _Hermione! And you just _had_ to pick the one that is being chased by a _poser _of a Dark Lord."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "Poser?"

"Michael used it yesterday, and I thought I'd make good use of the word."

Michael was one of the few American juveniles that were staying there. His family had moved to England a few months ago, and already he had landed him self in a juvenile centre. _"Just adding on to the list of centres,"_ he'd always say.

"Right," she said unconvinced.

"But that is not the main concern, right now. Right now, my main priority is getting that _boy_ out of here, as soon as possible." David stood up, ran his hands through his hair, and left.

"Odd," was all Hermione could say.

**0—0**

Harry twitched in his sleep, almost awake. He had heard Hermione and her father shouting, and thought that it'd be safer if he were 'asleep.' Groaning, he opened his eyes, closing them again when the blinding light enfolded him. After a few seconds, he opened them again, and his eyes started adjusting to the light.

He got up and put his glasses on, momentarily forgetting that he had somehow lost his shirt. Maybe Madam Pomfrey had taken it off when she was checking him, he wasn't too sure. Nonetheless, he walked out of the room and made his way to Hermione's.

He knew that he should be getting some rest, but he needed to see Hermione. He needed comfort, and he knew that Hermione would be the best source. And since her father yelled at her, he thought that she could use some company, too.

He knocked on her door, gently at first. No answer, so he knocked a bit harder.

"Go away, Dad. I don't want to talk," muttered Hermione.

"It's not your Dad, Hermione."

"Harry?"

"The one and only," he said smiling.

A mere five seconds later, the door opened and Hermione embraced him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, forgetting about the non-existent shirt, and he wrapped his around her waist, glad that she was there. She sniffed in his scent—the scent that only Harry seemed to have—and smiled.

"I thought something bad had happened," she muttered.

Suddenly remembering the dream, he released her and backed away. "Uh – I – err – I have to go. I'll – uh – I'll see you later."

Before he had a chance to leave, Hermione held on to his arm. "Oh no you don't, Harry. You aren't going _anywhere_ until I get a few good kisses. I had to endure my father talk about Voldemort, the poser, and Michael Jackson. The least you can do is give me a kiss." She glared at him.

"But, Hermione I… I – uh, I've really got to go… somewhere," he finished lamely.

She glared at him. "No you don't, Potter. Get in my room, right now."

"Hermione, I can't, okay?" he said, prying her hands off his arm.

Without warning, Hermione pushed Harry until she pinned him to the wall. Glaring at him, she said, "I'm going to get a kiss, and you're going to give it to me. Understood?"

Fearing the wrath of Hermione, he mutely nodded. "Good. Now, go into my room while I get something."

Again nodding, he left into her room while Hermione got 'something.'

A few minutes later Hermione came back, something in her hands (which were behind her back). "Turn around, Harry," she commanded. "And put your hands behind your back."

"I've heard that before," Harry muttered, but doing what she instructed. "You're not going to do what I think you're going to do, are you?"

She smiled sweetly. "Oh, you know me too well." She took out the handcuffs and put them around his wrists, not fastening them, but making sure that his wrists were actually in. Once his wrists were in, she roughly turned him around, and pinned him to the wall again. She could care less about the height and weight disadvantage right now. She wanted a kiss, and damn well she was going to get one!

"Hermione… wha-what do you think you're doing?" he asked, clearly baffled.

"I think, Harry, that I'm going to kiss you." She smiled and licked her lips, going on her toes and pressing her lips to his.

His eyes widened and he tried to shift his head, only to find out that she fisted his hair, holding him in place. She thrust her tongue into his mouth, and he very nearly bit it. _My bad,_ he thought. The dream kept lurking in the back of his mind, and he couldn't concentrate.

Hermione growled and pulled away slightly, so that their noses were touching. "Move those lips and that tongue of yours, Potter," was all she said before planting her mouth onto his once more. While she was still on her toes, she took her other hand and slid it around Harry's neck. _Finally, his lips are moving!_ She thought triumphantly. While leaning onto him more, she thrust her tongue into his mouth.

He groaned. This was one of the fiercest snogs from Hermione that he had _ever_ received. Giving up on the dream, he started moving his lips into motion with hers. She slithered her arms around his neck, and he wished that the handcuffs weren't around him, so he could wrap his arms around her. She thrust her tongue into his mouth, and his tongue gladly met hers.

They duelled for a few good minutes before Hermione finally pulled back. "Now, _that _is a kiss!" she pointed out, grinning broadly. She nipped at his piercing on his lip.

"S-sure," he stuttered, finding it hard to talk while Hermione was sucking his bottom lip.

"I like that piercing," she noted huskily.

"I do, too," he said.

She smiled and rested her heels on the floor. She wrapped her arms around his middle for a minute, fumbling with the handcuffs, and then let him free.

He shuddered. "They feel dreadful," he said, massaging his aching wrists.

"I'm sorry," she said, though her tone was far from sincere.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Now, if you're done bruising my lips, I'd like to take a kip." Before leaving, he gave her a chaste kiss. He shut the door behind him as he left.

Hermione sighed. "I didn't really bruise his lips, did I?" she wondered aloud. "No, I couldn't have. He's being delusional." She smiled. "Delusional. Yes. I like that word." And deciding that kip sounded nice, she decided that she could take one too.

**0—0**

David sat on the settee and laid his head on the back of it. He wasn't a big fan of shouting at his daughter (either one, for that matter), and he always felt so exhausted after a good shouting. He sighed. Why couldn't Hermione just _listen _to him?

"Teenagers, honestly," he muttered. "Why do I work with them…?" he wondered aloud.

"I'm not too entirely sure, love," someone from behind him answered.

David jumped and turned around. "Oh – hel-hello, love," he greeted, scooting over so his wife could sit down. "How are you feeling?"

"Quiet ducky," she chuckled.

David raised an eyebrow. "Ducky?" he questioned.

She simply shrugged. "I never questioned you before, so you shouldn't question my choice of words." She smiled.

After a long silence, David spoke. "I've been thinking, Ann."

"What a wonder," she retorted sarcastically.

David tugged a lock of her hair teasingly. "I'm being serious.

"I don't want that boy here anymore. He endangered us. He hurt Hermione, he hurt me, and he could've very well hurt Catherine." He took her hand, "I don't want my family hurt in any way."

"David, you know very well that Harry was not in his mind, at the time." Her eyebrows burrowed together, lost in thought. "Something was wrong with him. I don't know what, though. I-I think it was that Lord Volde-something, that was in his mind. He took control of him while he was in his most venerable state: while he was sleeping.

"Don't you understand, David? Harry has so much to deal with. He… he's just a teenager, he can't comprehend everything!"

David lay on the couch and perched his feet on his wife's lap. "I… Please, can he leave?" he begged.

"No," was her final answer. And before David could say anything, Ann lift his legs, got up, put his legs down, and left the room.

"And I'm ordering Chinese tonight, dear!" shouted Ann from the stairs.

David groaned. _I hate Chinese food._

**0—0**

It was another ordinary day in the Weasley household, or at least it was for Ron Weasley. Fred and George, whom were sporting red (and it was a very, very bright red, not the ginger hair Weasleys had) and gold hair, simply grinned from ear to ear, saying that their newest creation was a success. ("_Love Gryffindor? Wishing to play a pa-rank on the Slytherins? Well, let them have your hair!" –Only comes in Bright Red—you're out of luck if you want _just_ red, mates-- and Gold, if you wish to have other colours—say you're in a different house, or you're a Slytherin that really loves red and gold—contact Fred and George Weasley!) _

Bill was over in the corner with Fleur on his lap, snogging most certainly. While they had just gotten engaged recently, they were already acting as if they were a married couple. (Her looks, for one, had probably been a big turn on for Bill.) Her ring gleamed in the dimmed light, and Ron wondered how he could afford such a thing.

_Perhaps it's just a big, shiny ball of lint,_ he mused, sniggering.

Ginny was writing to some bloke he was sure that he didn't know of. How could someone betray his trust like that, dating his baby sister? _It's scandalous! _He thought while gnawing on a left over pumpkin pie. Noticing that his pumpkin pie had been eaten, he took the plate and put it in the sink. Absently going up the steps, Ron went into his room.

He grinned; this was always his favourite room. With various posters of players from the Chudley Cannons, other Qudditch teams, his chocolate frog card collection, and haphazardly placed clothes around the room, what teenager wouldn't be proud? He let out a sigh and jumped onto the bed.

He missed Harry and Hermione. It had been a long while since he talked to them! _Wow, it's nearing Harry's birthday, too! Perhaps I should send him a letter. Merlin knows that Hedwig has been dying to take a letter back to her master. _

When he saw Hedwig, sitting on the perch of his window one night, he wondered if Hedwig had supposedly dropped a letter that Harry sent. But then, his mind rationalized, that Hedwig wouldn't be able to do that. Ever since then, Hedwig had been cooped up in Ron's room, only leaving the Weasley residence for hunting at night.

Ron sat down and took a piece of clean parchment, and a quill. After writing for a few minutes, he finished off the letter. He wondered if Muggles should be accustomed to seeing owls, and then reasoned that they weren't. Bringing his palms under his chin, he thought about the best way that he could send the post.

_The Muggle post, of course! _He grinned, and then just as quickly, frowned. He hadn't the slightest idea how to get to the muggle post office, or even how to use it. _Maybe dad knows how to use it…_ Quickly folding the letter, he trotted downstairs and sought out his father.

"Dad!" he called. Arthur was currently inspecting what seemed to be a muggle bendy-straw. "Dad, can you take me to the Muggle post office? I want to send a letter to Harry."

Arthur looked up, put down the straw, and smiled. "Ron, are you sure you want to go there? You won't know anything about it."

"Yeah, Dad," he replied. "I just want to send a letter to Harry, if that's alright with you."

He stood up and pocketed the straw. "Okay, son, let's go. I'm pretty sure that I know what to do."

Ron's eyes widened a bit. _Maybe this wasn't a good idea, after all. _

Once they had gotten to the post office (nearly one hour later, after they asked for directions three different times), Ron forgot what to write on a letter. Stumped, he looked at other Muggles letters.

"Hey, lay off!" the woman said, bringing the letter to her chest and covering it with her hands.

Ron smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry, but I was just wondering how to write the letter."

"Oh! Is that all?" she asked. He nodded. "Well, it's quiet easy." She led him over to the table, away from Arthur (who was inspecting a woman's purse that had beaded peacocks on it), and brought out a pen.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing towards the ballpoint pen.

"A pen…?" she said, as if it were the most obvious thing.

"Right…" he said sceptically. He'd let that woman off this time, but the next, he was going to start asking questions. _A pen, they say! How ludicrous! _He thought sniggering.

"Okay, anyway," she started, "you simply put your address—you do know what _that_ is, don't you?—and write it there." She then pointed to another address. "And this is where you write the receivers address. Got it?"

Nodding slowly, he said, "Yeah. My address here and Harry's there? Yeah, I got that."

"Okay then, bye. My husband is waiting in the car." She flashed him a smile and left.

Ron looked at the letter, and wrote his address down. But, yet again, he got stumped. What was Harry's address? He knew that it was one out of two choices. It was either the one in Surrey, or the one that was in a suburb near London. He put his hands in fists, and thought his left fist was the one in London, and the right, Surrey.

_Hmm… one of these is Hermione's address, and the other is Harry's… How can I pick when I know what the choices are? _Ron wondered.

"Ronald," Arthur called, walking up to his son, "have you finished your letter?"

"Err… One second, dad." Suddenly struck with an idea, he held the two fists out to his dad. "Pick one, Dad."

Immediately he picked Ron's left fist. "I always feel that the left hand is always underused," he commented. "You never see anyone use their left hand anymore."

Shrugging, he walked away, leaving Arthur to wonder. "Was it something I said?"

Ron quickly went back to the table and wrote down the address. Checking for any mistakes (Merlin he felt like Hermione), he sealed the letter, and placed it into the box.

"Okay, let's go," Ron said.

Nodding, Arthur followed along.

_I hope we don't get lost… again,_ thought Ron as they departed.

**0—0**

Catty went into Harry's room, her makeup bag in hand. Giggling, she trotted over to his bed.

She took the makeup out, and began her work.

_He's going to look so pretty! _Catty thought with delight.

**0—0**

A few hours later, Harry woke up. He sat up and took his glasses from the side table, putting them on. Making sure that his clothes were decent enough, after putting on a shirt, he left the room, not bothering about his appearance.

When he arrived downstairs, he was met with fits of giggles. He looked around the room and saw Catty giggling madly. Hermione's hand was covering her mouth, but he was sure that she was trying to fight off laughter.

_What is so funny?_ Harry wondered, walking into the kitchen.

Missus Granger was in the kitchen, preparing dinner. She turned around. "Oh, hello Harry, dear. What are--" she stopped mid-sentence, her eyes widening at seeing Harry's face. She opened her mouth, but then closed it again, turning around. "Harry, please wash your face."

His eyebrows shot up. "Eh?" was all he could say. "What's wrong with my face?" he wondered.

She turned around, spatula in hand. "You mean you didn't do that?" she asked, her spatula pointing at the makeup on his face.

"Err… I highly doubt it, Missus Granger. I don't know what, exactly, I did…"

She smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, Harry. We won't judge you." She turned around again, going back to whatever it was that she was cooking (Harry wasn't too sure). "Now, just go clean your face before David sees you."

"Right…" He left.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, walking up to him. "What happened?"

_I knew it was a bad idea to not check my face before leaving._ "I don't know, Hermione," he said honestly.

She smirked. "Well, you have makeup on." She grinned. "May I inquire as to the reason?" she asked, fluttering her eyelashes.

"I wanted to get in touch with my feminine side," he said sarcastically. "Honestly, Hermione, do you think I know why I have _makeup_ on _my face?"_

"No… I guess not…" came her hesitant reply.

Catty walked up to them, grinning. "How does Sissy like Silly Boy's new look?" she asked. "I did it all by myself!" she announced proudly.

"You did that?" Hermione asked, pointing at his face.

(Harry seriously wondered why he hadn't gone upstairs and washed his face off already.)

"Yep!" she said, eyes filled with mirth.

Mister Granger walked into the room. "Green isn't your colour," he said calmly, sitting on the settee and opening a magazine. "Oh, and you're leaving," came his calm announcement.

Harry went red. "Green?" he mumbled. _God, I must look like bloody Christmas._ "Err… excuse me, ladies." Not waiting for a response, he fled to the nearest bathroom.

Once he saw his reflection, he gasped. He _did_ look like Christmas! His eyes were outlined in red (_what was it called, eyeliner or something?); _he had on green lipstick (_God, this tastes foul);_ he had on bright red blush (_or maybe that's natural…)_; and his eyebrow piercing had green around it (_oh, my)_. He turned on the water, and started washing his face. After a few minutes, he noticed that nothing had happened, but it had just gotten worse. _What is this, waterproof!?_

"Hermione!" he called. Almost immediately, Hermione came, her face scared.

"What happened? Did you get hurt? Wha—" She stopped, noticing the state his face was in. "Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh.' Do you think you could help me? This won't come off!" he said, wiping his face to prove it.

She rolled her eyes. "It's waterproof, you dolt!" She opened the bathroom door. "Just sit here while I get my mum's makeup remover. I'll be back in a minute."

True to her word, Hermione came back. She took out the wipes and started wiping his face with it. "Don't keep your lips out!" she commanded. "Close your eyes." The makeup was almost off now. "Does your piercing hurt?" she asked, after cleaning around his eyebrow, he winced slightly.

"No, no. I'm fine," he reassured, his eyes closed.

"Okay. Open your mouth so I can wipe off the lipstick." He did just so, and she started cleaning. He opened his eyes, watching Hermione intently as she focused on the task at hand. He smiled inwardly; she never gave up, did she?

"Okay, I'm finished," she said. "Now, do I get a reward?" she asked.

"Of course," he said cheekily, pulling her on his lap so she was straddling his thigh. Just as he was going to give her a kiss, the door opened, showing the Granger family.

Mister Granger's eyes were nearly ablaze, and Missus Granger was attempting to cover up her daughter's eyes. "But I wanna see!!" she protested.

Harry and Hermione jumped apart, both mumbling 'sorry' as they left in a hurry.

Mister Granger shuddered. _Imagine if we hadn't found them. What would they do then?_ He shuddered a second time, but then hastily said, "Dinner."

Missus Granger rolled her eyes. _Men._

**0—0**

As Hermione went to see the mail, the next day, she was very surprised to see Harry had gotten a letter. "A letter from Ron?" she wondered, reading the return address. Shrugging it off, she went up to Harry's room and knocked. A muffled reply came, and she took that as a 'come in.' Opening the door slightly, she peeped in, just to make sure that he said she could come in.

Harry smiled while buttoning up his jeans. "Hey," he greeted, "come in."

Hermione blushed and did so. "T-this came in for you," she slightly stuttered, handing the letter over.

He looked at her, confused. "Are you sure? I don't even live here—oh, it's from Ron…" he trailed off. "How'd he… but… How'd he know your address?" he wondered out loud.

"I gave it to him a few weeks ago," she said with a shrug.

He nodded dumbly. "Of course." He looked back at the letter. "So, want to read it with me?"

She nodded and went to his side as he opened the letter.

_Hey Harry!_

_How're things holding up back at the Dursleys? Must be pretty bad, since you had to send Hedwig here! I honestly don't know why you're there with them. Really, I don't. I mean, didn't you say they treat you like some sort of muggle criminal? (I think that's kind of cool, muggle criminals.) _

_So, mum wants you (and Hermione, too, probably), to visit sometime this week. _

_Hey, and isn't your birthday soon? Well… Happy early-ish Birthday!! (I'm not too sure if I can send another letter by this time next week; mum is going crazy!)_

_Oh, and did I tell you: Bill and Fleur are getting married! I don't know if you knew, but they are! Ginny is going barmy with Fleur being around. She's even calling her 'Phlegm' now. Not too sure what it means, but it must be something rude, specially when it's coming from Ginny. (And to think, I thought of her as the innocent, shy, 'Oh-I'm-so-innocent-I-have-a-white-aura,' type. HAH!) _

_Well… hopefully you can come over? _

_See yah, mate,_

_Ron_

Harry and Hermione chuckled. Same old Ron. He turned to her and wrapped his arm around her waist. "So… how's the Burrow sounding right about now?" he asked, grinning evilly.

She smirked, placing a hand on his chest. "Not too bad, but I have something else in mind."

"Oh, really?" he asked innocently, wrapping his arm around her waist, throwing the letter on the bed. "And what would that, Miss Granger, be?"

"A proper 'hello' would be nice, Mister Potter." She grinned, going on her toes. "Or must I take out the handcuffs again?"

"No!" he said quickly, "Handcuffs aren't necessary."

"Alright, then." She left his embrace for a moment to close the door and lock it. "Now, what were we about to do?" she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I think I was about to do this," he said, his lips finding hers.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Haha, so how about I just, like, killed the ending? So, how was assertive!Hermione? Or... Christmas-y!Harry?

Hmm... only about two or so chapters left.

Reviews are much appreciated.


	8. Swinging Teen and Cartoon Boxers

**Author's Note: **Hmm… so I've been getting some Personal Messages on whether or not Harry and Hermione are virgins or not. Hopefully, this'll answer your questions.

Catty sighed, throwing her doll towards the wall. "I'm bored…"

She got up and decided that maybe Hermione and Silly Boy wanted to play with her. But, she questioned herself, what would they play? They could go to the park, or they could go for a walk. They could even take a ride into town if they liked.

She swiftly took off the shirt she had on, and took off her small trousers. Looking through her wardrobe, she took a sleeveless, pink shirt, and some jean shorts. Playing with her hair for a few minutes, she finally decided that wearing it down was suitable. She was ever glad she hadn't been "blessed" with the same hair as her older sister. Her hair wasn't frizzy at all, and it was curly, bouncing every time she would walk.

She left her room, and walked towards her sister's bedroom. She knocked.

Nothing.

"Sissy?" she called, knocking on the door again. After a few more minutes of knocking, she gave up and just opened the door, walking in.

There was no one in there. "Oh yeah, she's in Silly Boy's room." She rolled her eyes, _Of course! _

She left her sister's room and barged into the guestroom. Inside, she saw Harry and Hermione kissing open-mouthed, their tongues occasionally showing for Catty to be curious enough to ask how they did that.

_I wonder if Silly Boy can show me how to do that, _she thought silently, watching the two kiss, unbeknownst to them the audience they had. _Maybe not, _she thought, as she saw Harry suck Hermione's neck. _I don't want him to eat me. _She grimaced, vowing to never use her tongue unless she was licking a Popsicle.

Sucking in a deep breath, she exclaimed: "_Eww! _You're _licking_ each other's _tongues_! Do you know what they could've _eated_?!"

Jumping apart, the two started at Catty. This wasn't the first time she'd caught them snogging, so the two were fairly used to her barging in at the most inappropriate times. Harry hid behind Hermione to hide the 'evidence' that he'd enjoyed their snogging a bit too much, and Hermione rolled her eyes, glaring at her sister.

"What?" Catty asked innocently. "I didn't do nothing," she insisted, playing with the hem of her shirt.

"It's 'anything,' Catty, not 'nothing,'" Hermione corrected, the glare still evident upon her features. "And, actually, you _did_ do something. You interrupted our… conversation," she lied, blushing. _Why am I lying to a four year old? _she questioned herself, nearly snorting at the idea.

"Coonversnation?" she tried to pronounce the word, failing miserably. "Didn't look like one to me." She held her head up high. "And you know how I know?" she asked, not waiting for a reply. "Cause _A._ You weren't talking, _B. _You need to use tongues to talk, and _C. _Your tongues were licking each other's, and that means _D. _You guys weren't doin' nothin' but being all kissy-kissy!" she exclaimed.

Harry wondered if Catty had rubbed off Hermione. She was smart for a four year old, and she wasn't even disgusted about the fact they were kissing!

"And licking each other's tongues?" She made a face, "_Eww!"_

Oh, never mind.

"You're worse than mommy and daddy!" she said, shaking her head. "And they're married!"

Harry blushed deeply and buried his head into the crook of Hermione's neck. Hermione, too, blushed and made a move to usher Catty out of the guest room.

"Catty, why are you here?" she asked. She attempted to move forward, but Harry held her waist tightly, making sure that none of the 'evidence' was shown.

"I'm bored," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Hermione sighed, throwing her head back onto Harry's shoulder (whose face was still hidden in her neck), and groaned, loudly. "Catherine Elizabeth Granger, you had to come in here just to tell us you were bored?" she asked.

Catty rolled her eyes. "No, silly!" she exclaimed. "I want to play!" she told them, jumping joyfully.

"But Hermione and I already _were _playing," Harry mumbled miserably into her shoulder.

Now it was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes. _Honestly, teenaged boys and their hormones! _

Harry groaned, lifting his head momentarily and backed away slightly. Now that the 'evidence' was… obscured, Harry went to Hermione's side and looked at Catty. "What do you want to play?" he asked as an attempt at being polite.

Catty seemed to be in thought for a moment. "I… wanna play… Let's go to the playground!" she cried out, a big grin on her face.

"The… playground?" he repeated.

She nodded.

Hermione sighed. "Alright," she conceded, although she was shaking her head. "Tell Mum and Dad, and… we'll be down in a moment."

"Okay!" she squealed, running out of the room.

Harry grinned, sitting on the bed. "We're going to the playground," he said, a small smile grazing his lips. "I used to spend most of my childhood there, away from the Dursleys."

Hermione smiled and ran a hand through his hair, giving him a soft kiss on his temple. "Don't worry, Harry, we aren't here, running away from the Dursleys. We're here to enjoy a day without any regrets."

He grinned and turned, giving her a lingering chaste kiss.

"_Hermione, Harry!" _shouted Ann from downstairs.

Harry groaned, stretching his back slightly. "There's our cue." He snickered. "They probably think we're snogging again."

Hermione shrugged, leaving the room. "Let them think what they want."

Harry smiled, and followed her footsteps.

**0—0 **

"Are you sure?" Ann asked, knowing her daughter and 'friend' didn't want to go.

Hermione sighed, exasperated. "Yes, Mum, I'm sure. Harry and I will take Catty to the playground," she informed her. "And we might get a bit to eat afterwards."

Ann nodded. "Alright, then. Who am I to stop you?" She smiled and went back to her book. "Just don't stray too far, children." She smirked even though she couldn't see her daughter's face. "I know you two want to do _other things_¸ but you two have a responsibility to watch Catty," she told them sternly. "And if anything happens," she smiled, "Well, let's just say you won't be able to hold a wand against me."

Hermione rolled her eyes, and Harry felt a bit frightened. "Yes, Mother," she said sarcastically.

"And tell The Boy I'll be keeping an eye on him!" Mister Granger shouted from the foyer. "If he lays a hand on my daughter—older _or _younger—he'll have to face _me_!"

Harry squeaked. "Yes, Mister Granger."

Ann sighed, "Men. Now, Harry, don't worry about David; he's just being… _fatherly. _ I'll be sure to keep him here, in the house."

Harry gave a minuscule smile. "Thanks, Missus Granger." He looked at the two girls—Hermione and Catty—and silently asked her if they were ready. Hermione nodded and he turned back to her mother. "Well, we best be off."

Ann nodded. "Of course, of course. You three be back before sundown, alright?"

Hermione nodded. "Okay, Mum. Bye!" she said and left with Catty. Harry nodded and smiled kindly, also leaving.

A few minutes later, she heard the door open once more. "David, don't you dare spy on them!" she shouted, not taking her eyes off her book.

She heard the door shut, and a soft "Oh bullocks," was heard.

Ann rolled her eyes, _so predictable. _

**0—0 **

Once they got to the playground, Catty instantly went to the slide. Hermione rolled her eyes and sat on the nearest bench, crossing her legs and looking around. While she had been to the playground plenty of times during her childhood, she couldn't help but think everything here was so… immature for her level. The slides were occupied by younger children, varying from three year olds to nearly ten, and they were enjoying it immensely. The swings, which, she recalled, used to be her favourite part of the park, weren't be swung anymore. Everyone was on the seesaw or the monkey bars.

Just then, as her eyes finally settled on the monkey bars, she saw someone she thought would never be on it.

Harry.

The bars were a bit small for his five eleven frame, but if he bent his legs a little, he could cross them easily. He was grinning, pure joy grazing his features, and his legs were bending to latch onto the top bars. As his left leg latched on, he quickly made a move for his right leg to do the same. Once he made sure they were secure enough (the kids were watching, and Hermione suspected he didn't want to disappoint them, as she had a feeling as to what he was going to do), he let go of his hands. The children cheered, seeing a sixteen-year-old hang upside down, and Harry happily grinned, his glasses falling to the ground.

"Hermione, look!" Harry said, reaching for his glasses.

She rolled her eyes and got up. As she was walking towards him, she noticed Catty was among them, cheering, "I know him, he's my Sissy's boyfriend!!" over and over again.

He swung his torso a bit, not caring if he was getting disapproving looks from the adults, and tried tucking his shirt into his jeans. (Hermione, who hadn't notice until just then, blushed furiously.)

"I'm very proud of you, Harry," Hermione congratulated, smiling as she picked his glasses up. She kneeled in front of him and put them on his face, grinning as she saw his hair, even messier as he hung upside down. "Now, get down before all of the blood rushes to your head and you pass out," she commanded, holding him by the shoulders and trying to haul him upward.

"Mione, no!" he said, holding her neck, and still trying to keep his glasses on. "Please, just a little longer?" he asked sweetly, earning a lot of, "More time! You're mean!" and other things from the children.

She rolled her eyes. "No, Harry. I'm not going to let you pass—" She was interrupted by Laura running up to them.

"Harry!" greeted Laura, rather enthusiastically. "Oh my god, what are you _doing _here," she asked. After seeing Hermione and Catty, she added, "With them?"

Now that the children had went away (_guess they got bored, _Harry thought amusedly), Harry swung full force and held onto the bars tightly. Once he had his legs safely on the ground (it took him a few seconds, seeing as his legs were a bit too long for it), he stood up, immediately clutching on to Hermione.

"Dizzy," Harry muttered, swaying slightly, holding onto Hermione for support.

Hermione rolled her eyes, choosing to ignore Laura's stares. "I'm not even going to bother saying 'I told you so.'" She turned her head, raising an eyebrow at him, "But I'm not going to let you off that easy."

He groaned and placed his head on her shoulder, muttering, "Yes, Hermione, I know." Suddenly remembering someone was there, he lifted his head, giving her a polite smile. "Hello, Laura."

Laura smiled flirtatiously. "Oh, hello, Harry!" she greeted. "Mia," she greeted curtly.

"It's Hermione," she informed her. "Her-my-oh-nee," she pronounced it slowly, as if talking to a small child.

Laura rolled her eyes. "Yeah, whatever." She turned towards Harry again. "So, what's up?" she asked nicely.

Harry raised an eyebrow, and went to respond, but Catty intervened (_saved, actually, _Harry thought). "Harry! Play with me! Please?"

He grinned, casting an (almost) apologetic look towards Laura. "I'm sorry, Laura, but I have to play with Catty. Perhaps we'll talk next time?" he asked, hoping there was no next time.

Laura's smile faltered, but it stayed nonetheless. "Oh, sure, why not," she said.

He smiled, running off with the four year old, barely giving the two girls a backwards glance.

Hermione rolled her eyes, turning around, but Laura spoke up.

"Look, I don't know what you're going at, but it'd be wise if you just _back off._" Her voice was low, not nearly as high as her usual voice was. She started walking towards her slowly, but Hermione held up her hand.

"I honestly don't know what you're talking about," Hermione stated calmly.

"Oh, I think you do," said Laura, fidgeting with her small purse. _(What does she need a purse for, anyway? _Hermione absently wondered.) "You just want to get into Harry's pants," she told her. "Well, don't try anything, because he's already mine, and I don't think our child would like his father having another woman all over him," she stated, her eyes fixed on Hermione.

Hermione merely raised an eyebrow. "Oh, a child you say? Wouldn't that ruin your figure?" she asked sarcastically.

Laura glared at her. "Well, it's true. He didn't want anyone to know, but our daughter is at home right now, sleeping."

Hermione was now laughing. "You and Harry… a daughter?" she fell into more fits of laughter, now clutching her sides. After a few minutes, she was finally able to muster a sentence long enough without bursting into a fit of laughter. "Honestly, you think Harry wants a child at this time? Do you even know what he's going through right now?" she asked.

Suddenly, Harry came up, carrying Catty piggyback style. "Hello!!" they greeted in unison.

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, seeing the two girls' faces. _And why is Laura still here? _Harry silently wondered.

"Oh, nothing much," Laura said nonchalantly. "Well, I best be off. Ciao!" She flashed them a toothy smile before strutting out.

Hermione's clenched her hands into fists and she was muttering to herself. She turned around, and forced herself to inhale and exhale slowly. Harry and Catty were looking at her rather worriedly.

After a few moments of silence, Harry spoke up again. "Err… what happened?" he asked cautiously. He let Catty slip slowly off his back, and he told her she could play for a few more minutes while the two talked. He led her to a near by bench, seeing as Hermione was clearly infuriated with Laura, and sat next to her, turning towards her.

"What happened?" he questioned again. "Did… did Laura say something she shouldn't have?"

Hermione's eyes, which had been downcast the whole time, suddenly sprang up, giving him a questioning look. "What do you mean? Was she supposed to keep something secret, and she told?"

Harry raised an eyebrow, "Err… I'm not too sure…" He took her hand, intertwining their fingers together. "Why, what did she say?" he prodded gently, giving her hand a squeeze.

"Well, she simply 'stated' that you had a daughter… with her," she told him quietly, looking into his eyes.

Suddenly, he burst out in laughter, clutching his sides. "You… actually believed her?" he asked after he calmed down.

"No," she murmured.

He grinned, "Good, because I don't think I could handle anymore 'children,'" he said, using air quotes for "children." "And besides, I'm saving myself for my wife," he said after a moment, a bit more serious.

She smiled. "That's wonderful, Harry. Usually, most boys want to shag as many women they can before they settle down. And some don't even bother, just as long as they get to shag." After a moment, she asked, "Wait, so you don't want any children?"

His eyes widened, aghast. "Of course I want children, Hermione!" He sighed, suddenly remembering what he said. "You meant I didn't want any children, right? I meant I didn't want anymore-_imaginary _children. I want the real deal," he murmured.

She smiled, giving Harry a chaste kiss, "That I can do."

"_Sissy!" _shouted Catty joyfully, swinging (almost) upside-down. "Silly boy! Look!"

Their eyes widened, and then they sprinted off to her. "Catty!" Hermione shouted, holding onto her and pulling her down. Catty refused, but after Harry took hold of her, she stopped refusing.

"Why did you do that?" she asked, infuriated. "Do you know what could've happened if you fell?"

"But—"

Hermione interfered, "No. Don't say, 'but Silly boy did it!'" she reprimanded.

She grumbled, obviously irked. "I wanna go home," she mumbled, walking away.

Harry sighed, "Alright." He turned towards Hermione, seeing as she was still angry, and took hold of her hand, gently tugging her. "Let's go back." He picked Catty up, holding on to her (she started yawning, and Harry didn't think she could walk for much longer), and wrapped his arm loosely around Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione closed her eyes, allowing Harry to lead while she put her head on his shoulder, frowning when she felt her sister gently kick Harry. _And he's not even bothered by it, _Hermione thought as she saw Harry wince slightly, but refrained from saying anything.

"Such a lovely family," Hermione heard a woman comment as they walked past her house. She didn't know who the elderly woman was, but she seemed friendly, smiling while potting a few azaleas.

Harry smiled politely, still not loosening his hold on the two girls, and greeted the woman. "Hello."

The old woman smiled, putting the potted plants down and walking up to the three. "Hello, young man," she said gently, hoping the small child in Harry's arm wouldn't wake up. "What's your name?"

"I'm Harry," he informed her. He used his arm (which was still around Hermione), and lightly tapped her shoulder, "This is Hermione." He then nudged his head towards Catty, "And this little girl is Catty."

"Catty?" she asked, wondering what kind of name that could be.

"Yes," Hermione answered this time. "It's short of Catherine."

She nodded in understanding. "You two look fairly young. Judging by your thin frame and the piercings this young lad is sporting, I'd say you two are no older than twenty," the old woman said, looking from Harry to Hermione.

Harry chuckled softly, keeping his hold strong on Catty as she started slipping. "We're actually only fifteen," he informed her, inwardly grinning, happy that someone actually thought he looked _older _than he actually was. (Often, when he was younger, people often believed he was several years younger than he actually was. And now that someone actually thought he was older, he felt oddly proud.)

Her eyes widened in surprise, "Oh, my, so young!" she exclaimed. "How old is she?" she pried, her voice soft.

"Four…" Hermione answered.

"Oh my, a daughter at eleven years old?" she questioned. She clicked her tongue, shaking her head slightly. "Well, my azaleas are waiting. It was pleasant talking to you, hopefully next time you'll wait until you're a bit older until you have another child."

Hermione opened her mouth to correct the old woman, but Harry shook his head. "There's no point; she won't believe us."

She nodded, sighing as she placed her head on his shoulder once more. "You're right," she said. "Let's just head home, pack, and go to the Weasley's."

He raised an eyebrow. "We're not leaving until tomorrow," he told her.

"I know…"

He rolled his eyes. "What do you suggest we do in the meantime?"

She shrugged her shoulders as the round the curb to her home. "I don't know. Right now, I want to sleep. After watching the two of you, I feel oddly exhausted. Perhaps we could get started on your summer homework."

He groaned, but then remembered that he finished it already. "Mione, I already finished it." He grinned in triumph.

"Mmm…" she mumbled, absently wrapping an arm around his waist, leaning onto him more.

"Suddenly everyone is tired, and I'm their resting post?" Harry teasingly asked, adjusting Catty slightly and then placing his arm around her again. He kissed the top of Hermione's head, taking a moment to just smell her shampoo. It smelled of citrus and fresh flowers, something that oddly turned him on.

"Stop smelling me," Hermione mumbled, opening the door.

Inside, Missus Granger was still reading a book. And Mister Granger was nowhere to be seen.

"Mum, can you put Catty in bed?" Hermione asked. Without waiting for an answer, she went to her room, probably to take a kip.

Harry inwardly smiled, and looked at Missus Granger. "I can tuck her in, if you want me to. I don't mind," he offered.

"Oh Harry, you don't have to put yourself through that trouble. I can do it," she insisted, touched that Harry was willing to do such a thing. _ He'll make an amazing father one day, _she thought, taking Catty from him.

"Oh… alright," he said, a bit dejected.

Ann noticed this—the look of mild disappointment—and she decided that, perhaps, he _wanted _to put her to bed. "Or… you could put her in, if you wanted to. I just thought you might want to catch a quick kip while David is still out."

He smiled, taking Catty from her and gave her a small nod. "Alright, I'll put her to bed and then sleep for a while. I still have to pack for the Weasleys." Suddenly, as if remembering, he asked, "Is it alright if I go? I forgot to ask you earlier, and I would understand if you didn't want me to go."

"Oh, of course it's alright if you go! You don't have to ask our permission for anything, dear! Do you need help packing? Do you need any new clothes? If so, I'll just get my keys and we could go."

She cared so much that Harry felt tears prickling his eyes. Never had a woman cared this much for him. While Missus Weasley was wonderful, she would often overdue it, and Harry often felt caved in because of it. But Missus Granger was the perfect mix.

"Oh, no thank you Missus Granger. My clothes fit perfectly. And I don't think I need any help packing, hopefully Hermione could help me." After a moment, he said, "Unless you _want _to help me?"

"Oh, I'd love to! But if Hermione is already helping, then I don't want to feel like an intruder," she said while she and Harry (who was still holding Catty) strode upstairs. She opened the door and pulled the covers of her bed, and Harry tucked her in. He gave a soft smile, a gentle kiss on the forehead, and he stood up.

"Well, I guess I should go downstairs. I just got to the best part of the chapter and then I got sidetracked." She gave Harry a motherly kiss on the forehead (she had to go on her toes, considering the six-inch difference between the two) and she fixed Catty's covers. "Oh, and for dinner we're going to have chicken. I hope you don't mind."

"Oh, certainly not," he said, leaving the room, Missus Granger in tow.

"Alright," she smiled, going downstairs.

Rubbing his eyes under his glasses, he went into the guest room, collapsed on the bed, and promptly fell asleep.

**0—0 **

"Oh, _lovely_ shorts," Hermione commented, holding his cartoon boxers in front of his face, grinning cheekily.

He grinned. "And do you see me holding your knickers in front of _your_ face? No," he said, throwing a few more shirts into his trunk.

"That's because they're not in front of me, just _pleading_ to be held," Hermione retorted. "And besides, they'd look better on me," she boldly said.

"Oh, really?" he asked, walking up to her, putting his arms around her. "Then why don't you wear them?" he whispered, his breath hot on her ear.

"Harry…" she lamely fought back. "What you said today… waiting…"

"I know," he grinned, backing away. "I meant _over_ your clothes."

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him in a childish gesture. "Oh, you are such a tease."

He grinned and gave her a kiss. "Only for you, sweetheart."

Hermione froze. Harry had never acknowledged her as "sweetheart" or "love" or any other things. And so when he said this, her body went rigid.

Harry quickly backed away, realizing what he had said. "Oh, I'm sorry. It… it just slipped out. I won't call you that ever again," he said, his eyes downcast.

"No, it's quite alright," Hermione reassured him, seeing his slightly depressed features. "It just took me by surprise."

"Oh… alright." He smiled, taking the boxers from her.

She refused.

"No, I still have to try them on," she reminded him, slipping them onto her hips. They were just a size too big, but other than that, they fit perfectly. She wore simple fitting tank top, beige shorts, and her hair was up in a simple bun. And since she was wearing Harry's boxers, she looked incredibly silly.

"_Wonderful,_ milady," Harry commented. "You look simply _smashing._"

"Only in your clothes," Hermione murmured, going on her toes and giving him a kiss. The kiss quickly deepened and Harry found himself caressing her—_mine_, he corrected—boxers, tugging them down gently. She moaned into his mouth and she entangled her hands into his soft hair, suckling on the piercing.

He groaned into her mouth and tugged the boxers off, flinging them into the unsuspecting face of Mister Granger.

**0—0 **

"David, be a man and get our daughter and her _boyfriend_ down for dinner," Ann said while placing the remaining food onto the table.

He groaned. "Her _boy_friend? Or her friend that's a boy?" he questioned, already knowing the answer.

Ann sighed. "You've already caught them kissing. I don't see the problem, anyway. One day she will get married—to Harry, most likely—and you're going to have to get used to the fact that she'll be seeing Harry for a long, _long _time."

"Alright Ann, you don't have to go psychic on me," he grumbled, ascending the steps.

The second he got up there, he heard moaning. Silently growling, he started walking towards the guest room. Suddenly, before he could even comprehend anything, boxers went flying in his face.

_Oh dear lord, don't tell me they're… they're going to… Oh no, _Mister Granger thought, visibly shuddering. Taking the boxers (which, he noted, had a children's cartoon on it), he calmly folded them and walked into the room.

He coughed loudly and watched with amusement the two teens spring apart.

"S-sorry Dad," Hermione muttered, standing in front of Harry.

The blasted evident was clearly… evident.

"Sorry," Harry muttered. "We… we were just packing. We're going to the Weasleys tomorrow, you know," he mumbled.

Mister Granger inwardly grinned, his plan (which, he noted, had been going on since he first caught them snogging) going accordingly.

"Oh, no problem. You have your needs, after all." He grinned as Harry groaned and laid his head on Hermione's shoulder. "You are an attractive young lad, and Hermione—_my oldest daughter—­_is simply providing the needs." He paused for a minute. Dramatic effect, he mused. "But, if you do anything _further _than snogging, you'll wish you never messed with me."

He mutely nodded, fearing what he'd say might irk Mister Granger off.

"So," he said joyfully, "Ann has made a wonderful dinner. What do you say we go downstairs, and _I _can help you pack later? Long day, tomorrow, anyway. Wouldn't want to be exhausted," he said.

Harry didn't know if he was dreaming or not, but Mister Granger started whistling a tune (something, he recalled, was the same tune the cartoon on his boxers sang) and nearly skipped out of the room.

He couldn't wait to leave.

**Author's Notes: **To write the visit, or not to write. I'm opting for 'not to write,' but I'm not too sure. It'd be the visit, and then the ending (with a—never mind, I don't want to give it away). Or, just skip to Harry's birthday, a 'special' present, and then—hehe.

If I don't write it, would you lovely, _lovely_ people give me a few suggestions? I have a few, but I don't know if I really want to use them.

Thanx.


	9. Trio's Picture

Once Harry finished dinner with Mister and Missus Granger, Harry bolted to the Guest Room, his intention to concentrate on packing and nothing else. He started packing a few of his clothes at a time, giving feeble smiles every time he would pass a habiliment that would strike his fancy. Many of the shirts, he recalled, weren't of his preferred choice, but he would like them nonetheless. Harry was open to choice, and when he was given the clothes, he gladly (well, almost) accepted them.

Packing the last of the boxers into his trunk, he had a bit of difficulty closing it, but after taking his Invisibility Cloak and Marauders Map out of it and stuffing it into his school bag, he closed the trunk effectively. He sat on his four-poster, just looking around the room.

The past few weeks, he had to admit, were better than staying at the Weasleys any day. While there weren't as many people, he enjoyed it just as much. And having Hermione with him just made it even better.

After realizing someone was knocking, Harry, assuming it was Hermione, called, "Come in!"

However, that wasn't the said person. Mister Granger came in, a maniacal grin etched upon his features. "So, Harry," he started, making a move to sit on the bed, "how are you? Do you need any help packing?"

Harry shook his head, a bit too frightened to speak.

"Well, then how about we play a game of Quodpot? I hear it's particularly good weather today." Mister Granger's smiled widened and his eyes searched for Harry's Firebolt.

Finally, Harry found the courage to speak. "Err… Mister Granger, Quopot is a sport that is more frequently played in North America, not Britain." He gave an inaudible gulp as he continued, "I highly doubt we'd be able to play, mainly because of two reasons. _A._ You're a Muggle, and you wouldn't be able to fly properly, and _B._Because I don't have anymore brooms." Giving a thoughtful look, he added, "Not to mention there aren't a lot of wizards or witches that play the sport."

"Oh," Mister Granger deflated. "Then why do you play on brooms," he suddenly stopped, knowing what he said was wrong. "Oh! It was _Quidditch, _not Quodpot!" Mister Granger snapped his fingers. "That's what Hermione called it! Quodpot!"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Right." Giving a loud yawn, Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Well, Mister Granger, it's been… fun chatting, but I need my sleep right now."

"Just don't sneak into my daughter's bedroom," he said before closing Harry's door shut and going downstairs.

Once Harry was settled into the covers, Harry thought absently. _Was he talking about Hermione or Catty? _

**0—0 **

Once Harry and Hermione were downstairs with their things, Missus Granger gave them each a hug. "Oh, even if you'll be gone for a week, I'm going to miss you—_both_ of you!—so much." Once she released the two, she both kissed their foreheads.

"Mum, don't worry, Harry and I will be back to drop him off to the Dursleys," Hermione told her, feebly smiling.

She patted them on the shoulders, her eyes slightly tearing up. "I know, but I still don't want to see you go. What about Catty? She's going to be so bored without you two!"

Harry laughed, "Don't worry, Missus Granger, Catty will be alright. She's a big girl, and she's very active. I'm sure she'll have no trouble filling us in. I'm sure she won't even notice!"

As if on cue, Catty ran downstairs and hugged the two teens. "Don't leave!! It's gonna be _so_ boring without you guys!!" She hugged each of their legs and buried her face into Harry's trousers.

_Thank God she's very short, _Harry happily thought. _Because then she'd have her face buried in my crotch. _

"Please, please, please, please," she begged, now only holding Harry's legs.

He grinned at the small child's antics and hunkered down to her level. "Don't worry, Catty. Hermione and I will be back in a week," he reassured the child, holding her cheek tenderly.

"How 'bout we keep you 'n Sissy stays over there?" she asked her eyes hopeful.

Harry chuckled. "I'm sorry, Catty. Hermione is going to stay here for a while, and I'm going to go back to the Dursleys."

"Awww," she whined, "but you don't _have_ to, do you?"

Harry grinned, loving her attitude. "Yes, I do, actually. I think your dad's scared that I'm going to marry your sister tomorrow, so I'm afraid I'll have to leave," he lied… well, almost. He did have a feeling that Mister Granger had that idea stored in his mind somewhere; he just didn't want to admit it.

Her face showed one of disappointment, and she lowered her head. "Can… can I have a kiss?" she asked shyly, her face still down.

Harry quirked an eyebrow, but didn't object. "Sure."

Quickly, Catty added, "But not like you kiss Sissy! You eat her then!"

Chuckling, Harry gave her a soft kiss on the forehead. "How about that, then?"

Catty sighed happily, fluttering her eyelashes at him. "Perfect," she giggled, extending the 'r' for a ridiculous amount of time. "Maybe Papa don't want you and Sissy to get married, but I bet he'd say _we_ could!!"

"Oh no you don't, Catherine," interrupted Hermione, pulling Harry up by his elbow. "Harry is _mine, _understood?"

"Hermione, she's only four. Obviously she doesn't mean it," he said in a placid manner.

"Clearly you don't know her, then," she mumbled, picking up her trunk and going to the front door. Looking at Harry, she silently told him to pick up his trunk and follow her. Once he came, Mister Granger came up to them and gave Hermione a kiss on the forehead.

Taking the trunk (he thought that the boy was 'strong' enough to handle his own things), he put them into the car. Letting the two slide in, he started the ignition, and they left.

Catty sighed from the door. "Sissy always takes what I want," she grumbled.

Ann smiled, picking up the four-year-old. "How about a peanut butter and jam sandwich?"

Catty squealed, knowing that her mother remembered her favourite foods.

**0—0 **

"_This_ is where they live?" Mister Granger asked. "Are you sure we haven't gotten the addresses mixed up?"

Hermione sighed, opening the car door. "No, Dad, we haven't gotten the address mixed up. This is where they live, yes, and this is where I'll be staying for the next week, alright?"

Harry inwardly chuckled; loving that Hermione was able to stand up to her father. Getting the trunks from the car, he entwined his right hand with her right, and the two bid farewell to Mister Granger.

"If she comes back pregnant—" Mister Granger started.

"—then Harry is dead," finished Hermione. "Yes, yes, I know. Dad, do you honestly think we have no morals?" she shook her head. "See you in a week, Dad."

Harry simply nodded, not wanting to irk Mister Granger any farther, and the two set off to the front door. Once they got there, Harry put his trunk down and knocked. Almost ten seconds later, he was greeted by a mass of ginger hair.

"Harry!" greeted Fred—or was it George? "What a pleasant surprise to see you, mate!" He opened the door farther, noticing the entwined hands, and let Harry and Hermione pass through. "And Hermione, looking radiant as usual," he complimented, dramatically fluttering his eyelashes at her.

"Thank you," Hermione said, offering Fred a wide grin. "Where is everyone else?" she asked after a few moments.

"In the garden, playing Quidditch, of course!" he exclaimed. "Now, just hand me these trunks and I'll apparate to the rooms you'll be staying in, and I'll escort you to the garden, milady and… err… Harry," he grinned, taking the trunks from them. "By the way," added Fred, noticing Harry's new look, "lay off the women's products. A bracelet—however cool it might be—and piercings is _not_ the way to go!" But he clapped Harry on the back, nonetheless. "But, the green hair is very, very macho." Before Harry could retort, Fred apparated.

"Bloody prat," he muttered. Looking at his silver watch on one wrist, and the simple golden bracelet on the other, he started taking it off. And then there was his eyebrow stud and lip ring, which he just didn't have the heart to take off. And his hair, well, there was no way he'd be able to change that.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, noticing Harry fumbling with the bracelet.

"Taking this off, obviously," he answered. "I can't be in front of the Weasley's like this! They'll faint!"

She held his wrists, and forced him to look her in the eye. "Harry, don't take anything off just because you're scared of what the Weasleys will think, alright? If they can't handle it, then just tell them to—"

"I'm _back!_" announced Fred, interrupting Hermione. Noticing Harry and Hermione's position, he said, "If you two just wanted some privacy, I could've just apparated you two to the royal _bedchambers."_ He gave a cheeky grin, seeing the couples face blush profusely.

"We weren't going to do anything, Fred," Hermione mumbled before straightening herself up. "Now, you said that everyone was in the garden?"

Fred nodded, leading them towards it. Soon they got there, and Molly Weasley noticed Hermione. "Oh Hermione, dear!" she gave her a big hug, and Hermione returned it happily. Letting her go, she checked her over once. "Still a bit thin, just like – Harry!" she cried, seeing Harry for the first time. "Oh… Harry…" she said, looking over Harry's new appearance.

Wearing simple faded (and slightly torn, since he fell—many, many times—while playing with Catty in the playground) jean trousers and a plain blue shirt, Harry didn't think his fashion sense was _too_ bad. But, then again, Missus Weasley might've noticed his short, green-tipped, spiked hair, the blood red stud that stood out sharply against his jet-black eyebrow, and the small silver loop that was near the corner of his bottom lip. But, he couldn't be too sure.

Almost cautiously, she approached Harry. Enveloping him in a surprisingly loose hug, she withdrew immediately. "Yes, still a bit thin, but nothing I won't be able to fix!" she said, smiling at Harry. Nearly breaking out in a run (something which Harry nearly laughed aloud for), she ran into the house and out of view.

"Harry!" shouted Ron, dismounting from his broom and running towards Harry and Hermione. "And Hermione!"

"Ron!" greeted Hermione, giving him a bear hug. "You've grown so much!" she exclaimed, noticing that she just barely reached his shoulder.

"Yeah, not too much, but enough," he said nonchalantly. He looked at Harry next, nearly choking on the air he inhaled. "You've… Wow… You've – err, changed…"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I have."

Chuckling, he clapped Harry on the back and said, "Well, mate, c'mon! Grab your Firebolt and let's go! We've got a Quidditch game to finish!"

However, before Harry had the chance to move, he was enveloped into another hug. "G-Ginny," he greeted, awkwardly placing his arms around her back.

Pulling back, she gave him a smile. Pecking him on the cheek (and Harry noticing Hermione's eyes narrow slightly), Ginny pulled away completely.

"Hey, Harry," she finally greeted. He gave a feeble smile, inching closer to Hermione.

"Ginny," Hermione greeted coolly. Usually, she was friends with her, but the show she just displayed, Hermione wasn't too sure she was willing to share right now. Not now. Not ever.

"Oh, hey Hermione!" she greeted, staying there.

Ron noticed the exchange between the three, and thought that maybe something was going on with Harry and Hermione. _No, he'd tell me if there was! _Ron reasoned with himself. _But then again… there wasn't anyway to tell me, was there? I mean… Hedwig wasn't with Harry, and Hermione doesn't have an owl. And it's not as if the Muggle post will be able to get here. _Shrugging it off for the time being, he decided to talk.

"So… err," he searched for a topic the four of them could converse on. Finding nothing (Hermione didn't like Quidditch much, and he and Harry didn't like talking about "girl things"), he simply said, "The weather… nice, innit? Perfect day for Quidditch, or in Hermione's case, reading," he chuckled.

Harry nodded, "Yeah, it is nice." He looked at Hermione for a moment, raising an eyebrow, silently asking if right now were the right time to tell Ron about their relationship.

Hermione nodded, smiling, and turned to Ron. "Ron, can we talk to you in private for a moment, please?" she asked.

Raising a suspicious eyebrow at the two, he slowly replied. "Sure, I guess."

The three went inside, much to Ginny's disappointment. Walking upstairs and into Ron's bedroom, Harry and Hermione sat on the bed while Ron leaned against the wall.

"So, what did you want to talk to me about?" asked Ron, wrapping his arms over his chest.

_This isn't going to be easy, _thought Harry, closing his eyes briefly, wondering how he could break the news easily.

"Harry and I are dating," Hermione answered bluntly.

_Wish I could've thought of that, _he thought sarcastically, groaning and putting his head into his hands, waiting for Ron to blow up and punch the living daylights out of him.

"Really?" was all Ron asked.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, we are." After a short pause, she asked, "Are you alright with it?"

Ron was silent, his eyes wide and staring at the two people sitting in front of them. _Since when have they been dating? _he wondered. _And why does it seem so… weird that they're dating? They're like brother and sister! And… Wow, this is going to take some getting used to. _

Harry, finally lifting his head up, took a look at Ron. His eyes were wide; his eyes switching from him to Hermione, and his eyebrows were raised so high that they nearly disappeared into his ginger hair. Groaning, Harry put his head back into his hands.

"Ron?" Hermione called, standing up and snapping her fingers in front of his face.

_But I thought she fancied me! _he argued with himself. _Was I just a distraction? Or was I just a passing fancy? Dear Merlin this is confusing. And what about Ginny? Wait… _what _about Ginny? Since when has Harry fancied Ginny? Oh Merlin, all of this thinking is getting me hungry! How does Hermione do it? What about—_

"Ron!" shouted Hermione, slapping him lightly on the cheek.

Finally snapping out of it, Ron shook his head vigorously. "What? Oh! Err, yeah. Sure. Whatever you say."

"Were you even paying attention?" she asked, her eyes narrowing accusingly.

Stammering, Ron replied, "Err, yeah. Sure."

She rolled her eyes and went back to the bed. "Obviously not," she muttered.

"Don't worry, Hermione," Harry placated, entwining his fingers with hers. "I bet Ron was just having some 'me time.'"

"Sure he was," she mumbled.

"You're holding hands," Ron stated, staring at their joined hands.

"Thanks for the update, Ron," Harry said sarcastically.

Taking a long, deep breath, Hermione said, once more, "Ron… Harry and I are dating."

His eyes widened. "Wow… Really?"

The two nodded in unison. "Yeah," responded Harry. "Are you alright with this? I mean, Hermione and I will try our best to include you into everything. We promise not to neglect you. Obviously there's going to be some—" He was babbling, and so Ron intervened.

"_Harry!" _he exclaimed, putting his hands up into the air. "I get it! Merlin you're going mad!" He laughed, and then said, "Yeah. You two are dating. And… I'm happy for you. I really am." He smiled, happy that his two friends found love within each other.

"Really?" asked Hermione. At his nod, she grinned happily and sprang up, enveloping Ron into a hug. "Oh I'm so glad!" she exclaimed.

Moving away from Hermione, Ron said, "Good. Just… just don't snog in front of me, alright? It's still going to take some getting used to."

Nodding emphatically, Harry agreed. "Sure. We just wanted to make sure that you were alright with it."

Ron offered a small smile of reassurance. "Yeah, I'm alright with it, I guess. I mean… Yeah, you two were the _last _in the world I thought would start dating each other, but it's alright."

"Really? You thought that Hermione and I would never get together?" he asked.

"Yeah," he admitted. "I mean, you two are so close, it's like you're brother and sister!"

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, and then started laughing. "That's barking," he said, his voice muffled by laughter.

"Harry and I, brother and sister?" Hermione chuckled, wrapping her arms around Ron again. "Oh Ron, you can be so daft sometimes."

Ron grinned and removed Hermione from himself. "Yeah, well, that's me. Ronald Weasley, boy with the emotional range of a teaspoon."

After the three had finished their rounds of laughter, they made their way downstairs. They had to admit, having times where they could simply laugh and enjoy themselves, just the three of them, it felt good.

Quickly making their way into the garden, they saw Fred and George playing Muggle football with the Quaffle. George was by the bushes, waiting for Fred to score, and Ginny was standing opposite of George, waiting for Bill to get the Quaffle away from Fred so he could score it.

"Oi, are you going to let me and Harry play or what?" shouted Ron, running up to the crowd of Weasleys.

"Sure, just as long as Harry here tells us how to play!" Fred replied, grinning as he held the ball and threw it at George.

Harry jogged up to them and asked, "You don't know how to play?"

"Nope," Fred, George, and Bill replied in unison. "By the way, nice piercings," Bill commented, seeing him for the first time that day.

"Thanks," he said dismissively. "Err… the way to play football is really easy, actually. Just, make sure your hands don't touch the ball, and—"

"_That's _what we've been doing wrong!" George exclaimed, hitting Fred on the head with his Quidditch bat lightly. "You git, you said that it was Quidditch on the ground!"

"Well, it's quiet obvious, brother, that it's not," he replied cheekily.

"Fred, George, let's play!" Bill said, getting aggravated. "Ron, Harry, you joining us?" he asked.

"Err… not right now, I think I'll sit this one out," answered Harry, walking towards Hermione.

"Ooh, spending time with the girl, eh, Harry? Want to snog—or shag?—Hermione's brains out," George said, grinning from ear to ear.

Ginny, who'd just noticed the boys were surrounding Harry and Ron, jogged up to them. "Now, why would he want to shag her brains out?" she asked, her breathing slightly laboured.

"Because she's his girlfriend?" shrugged George. "Anyway, back to the game!"

Rolling his eyes, Harry started walking towards Hermione, who was sitting under a tree, simply looking at the clouds.

"Knut for your thoughts?" asked Harry, sitting next to Hermione.

Hermione smiled and lay on the grass. "I remember when I was a child, and the weather would be wonderful: not too cloudy, not too warm, perfect enough to simply lie on the grass and gaze at the clouds. Usually, when I would lie there, I would see if there were any shapes in the clouds." She chuckled, "Silly, I know, but I was very young and naïve at the time."

Harry nodded, absently placing Hermione's head on his lap, playing with random strands of soft, bushy hair. "I know what you mean. When I was younger, probably much younger than you were, I would go to the park and sit on the swings, just looking around. Just looking, nothing else. I thought it was peaceful, calming, somehow." He shrugged, "It was a hell of a lot better than being with the Dursleys, I'll tell you that."

She turned her head slightly, looking into Harry's green eyes. "I miss those times, Harry."

"I know," he said softly, smiling down at her. "I do too. Times where we could just walk around, not wondering if someone were behind us, watching us, plotting our very deaths. Or worse, plotting the ones we love's deaths." He hung his head, turning it away from Hermione.

She sat up and held his face in her hands. "Harry, we were young at the time—"

"We're still very young, Hermione."

"—and we didn't know anything," she continued, as if she hadn't heard him. "But, one thing is for sure, we've still got—"

"_Heads up!"_ shouted Fred.

Quickly ducking, Harry pushed Hermione and himself onto the earthen floor. His face was inches away from hers, and he quickly let into temptation—despite the number of Weasleys around—and lowered his mouth onto hers. Smiling as she responded instantly, he parted her lips by plunging his tongue into her mouth, seeking hers out.

Internally smiling, she responded eagerly, wrapping her arms around his neck, welcoming his weight. _Which, _Hermione thought, _isn't actually a lot. _

For a few blissful minutes, their lips didn't leave each other's, but ignored the fake gagging (from the sheer goodness of Ron) and cheers (courtesy of Fred and George) from the Weasleys.

Finally, after a few quick pecks, Harry finally let himself off Hermione. "That was nice, but unexpected," he commented, helping Hermione up.

She nodded, standing up and brushing her jean trousers off. "Yes, it was."

Ron ran up to the couple, and playfully said, "Well, I guess that takes away any doubts _I _had!"

Chuckling, Harry said, "Yeah, I bet it does."

"So," started Ron, "want to play Quidditch now?"

Giving Hermione a sideways look—who simply nodded—Harry nodded his head. "Yeah, let's play."

**0—0 **

Days quickly passed, and it was soon the last day of Harry and Hermione's stay.

Over the past week, they'd had a lot of fun. They often played Quidditch (Harry even nearly managed to get Hermione to play), but then would often be reprimanded by Missus Weasley for ruining her carrots. They played chess, which Ron won all of the times, and Harry and Hermione were introduced to the to-be Bride and Groom.

By now, however, since they were familiar with everyone and everything, Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way to Ron's room.

"Well, the last day, eh? Blimey, it seems as though it were only yesterday that you two came," said Ron, lying on his bed.

"Yeah it does, actually," said Harry, sitting on the bed opposite of Ron.

"Why don't we take a picture?" Hermione suggested. "We don't nearly have enough pictures of the three of us, and it'd be a wonderful end to the day, too!"

"But do you have a camera?" Harry asked.

"I have a wizarding one, but it's really old," answered Ron. "One minute, I'll ask Dad where it is. Maybe he can take it!"

The two nodded, and Ron ran out of the room.

Ten minutes later, Ron and Mister Weasley came up, a rather large camera in his hands. "Hello Harry, Hermione," greeted Mister Weasley.

"Hey Mister Weasley," greeted Harry, and Hermione nodded.

"Now, where would you like the picture to be taken? The garden would be a wonderful spot, no?"

"Yeah, Dad!" exclaimed Ron. "That'd be perfect, wouldn't it, Harry?"

Harry stood up. "Yeah, let's go."

"C'mon, Herms," said Ron, grinning as he saw Hermione's face redden.

"It's Hermione, _Ronald_."

Grinning, the four made their way to the garden. "Now, get into position and tell me when you're ready."

They nodded, and Harry wrapped his arm tightly around Hermione's shoulder, moulding her against his side. Hermione wrapped her arm around Harry's waist, and placed her hand on Ron's shoulder, who then proceeded to place his hand lightly on her back.

"We're ready, Dad!"

Nodding, Arthur took the picture.

**0—0 **

"Oh god, does my hair really look like that?" Hermione wondered, looking at the new picture.

"Yep," Ron responded.

Inside the picture, Harry—wearing a hooded sweatshirt, his now trademark piercings and tipped green hair, and slightly torn jeans—had his arms wrapped tightly around Hermione, nuzzling his neck as Ron pretended to gag. Hermione—wearing a soft periwinkle shirt and khaki trousers—was chuckling and trying to get away from Harry's grasp, nearly falling onto Ron in the process.

They'd frozen the picture, because they thought that the other parts of the picture were far too silly. So, currently, the Trio were in their original pose: Harry with his arm wrapped tightly around his girlfriend's shoulder, whose arm was wrapped around his waist. Her hand was placed lightly on Ron's shoulder, whose hand was lightly touching her back.

All three looked genuinely happy.

"Yes, and we love it," Harry answered, running his hand through it.

"What did I tell you about displaying affection in front of Ron?" asked Ron, raising his eyebrows playfully.

"Nothing…?"

"You simply said that we couldn't snog in front of you," answered Hermione.

"Oh," he deflated. "Well, whatever. It's the same, to me."

Hermione smiled. "Of course it is."

"Ron, Harry, Hermione!" shouted Missus Weasley from downstairs. "Dinner is ready!!"

Grinning, Ron bolted downstairs without sparing Harry and Hermione a second glance.

"That's our Ron," they muttered in unison.

**0—0 **

When they got back to the Granger residence, they saw the Order there. Dumbledore had a humble smile etched upon his features, and Lupin was grinning from ear to ear. Tonks was playing with Catty, making her giggle every time she would change her hair colour and style.

"Now, Harry, are you ready to go back to the Dursleys?" Remus asked, shrinking Harry's trunk and putting it into his pocket.

"No, but could I ask for a favour?" Harry asked, grinning at Hermione.

Slowly, Remus responded, "Sure…"

Thirty minutes later, Harry, Hermione, their "children," Lupin, and Dumbledore made their way towards Number Four Privet Drive.

Dumbledore had changed Catty's eye colour to green, to make it seem as if she were Harry and Hermione's daughter, and Hermione had an inflated stomach, making it look as if she were five months pregnant. And in Harry's arms, close to his chest, was a small fake baby dressed in blue, making it look as if he were holding his seven-month-old son.

"Now, Catty, remember the game we're playing?" Harry asked.

"Yeah! We're playing a prank on your Uncle and Auntie!" she exclaimed, her now green eyes filled with excitement. "I'm gonna call you 'Papa' and Sissy 'Mummy.' This is gonna be fun!"

_Oh yeah,_ he thought, grinning internally. He then turned to Hermione. "Now, how is my pregnant girlfriend?"

"Feeling fat," she muttered. "I don't know how you convinced me to do this."

He wrapped one arm around Hermione's slender shoulders, giving her a kiss on the temple. "This is going to be fun, Hermione! Just you wait."

Going up to the door, he rang the doorbell. Making sure Catty was still hovering around them somewhere, Harry then turned to face the door.

"One moment!" shouted someone.

A few seconds later, Vernon answered.

"Hey Uncle Vernon!" greeted Harry, patting his 'son's' back lightly. "I'd like you to meet the family!"

Vernon looked at Harry: he had short, green tipped hair, and he had s blood red stud in his eyebrow. There was a small silver loop going through his bottom lip, and he wore clothes that actually fit him. But, he was also holding what seemed to be a baby—a baby that had black hair. Next to him, a young woman—the same girl he recognized to be the girl that pounced on Harry at the train station—with a large, pregnant belly stood, holding a what seemed to be four-year-olds hand. She had brown hair, looked exactly like the pregnant girl (_Hermione, was it?_), but had Potter's eyes.

His eyes widening at the sudden realization, Vernon Dursley fainted.

**Author's Notes: **Nope, you aren't getting a sequel from me. Nor another chapter, sorry. Anyone who is willing to write a sequel, however, can if you have my permission, etc. Just ask in a review, Personal Message, or whatever.

Thank you all for the support you've been showing me, and hopefully this was a comic relief from DH. (Horrible/wonderful book, if I do say so myself.)

I love you all!!


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